You lift your wings
All blue and white and silver
And you take to the air
As though there's nothing to it.

And,
While in awe
I gaze upon your feathers,
All slick with the eager urge of flight,
And some missing pieces
From flights that turned to falls.

And I glance upon my own wings,
Still somewhat fluffy and down-like,
Most of the more mature, darker feathers,
Bent and missing parts because
I've never flown before,
I've barely even had the illusion of flight like you have.

But you take to the air,
And you soar.
And I gape at the sunlight bouncing off the various shades
Of blue.

There's the icy aqua
And the deep sapphires,
Along with the midnight, almost black.
And my favorite, the bright seafoam turquoise,
And the darker teal that looks emerald if you stare at it just right.

And don't even get me started
On the  contrast of the silver
And the white
Streamlining against the pleasant blues
That fill my heart with calm.

I watch as you spiral, and hover, and dive
And then pull yourself back up and into the air
Waiting for me to join you.
And once I did, I wobbled and I shook and I was terrified
To jump off that cliff,
But here I am,
Soaring, flying,
Right here beside you,
Holding my own fairly well.

And even still, after years of being in awe
Of the memory of your feathers,
I am even more in awe and filled with love
For the way you fly with me.