When I was younger,
I used to dream of flying right out of my skin.
My soul soaring from my first grade body
To where soft meadows smelled of rain.
Out, over the tarmac filled with those who wished to clip my wings.
Past those who wished to tie them down with nightmares,
How fast I would fly.
Every night, wings I never saw, but still knew I had,
Lifted me from my broken bones and my torn heart
And I was reaching heights I had always wanted to taste
And smell of soft sunshine filled clouds.

So that I was hovering, eyes wide open, seeing it all at once.
This big world and its bright beauty
So blinding,
Sometimes I had to close my eyes and feel its gentle glow on my belly
Without touching it,
Without squishing it between my toes,
I knew it sat there for me to find;
My soft place to land.

And one day it found me.
It reached out and grabbed me.
When I tried to stretch out my wings,
It grabbed me.
It grasped my ankles and tore away my dreams.
Burying my feet,
Forcing roots from my toes.
My bright beautiful earth placed me on broken ground,

Then, when my longing heart finally gave up on flying ever again,
I felt rain kiss my cheek.
I lifted my eyes to the sky, closed them, and imagined it missed me.
And as I felt the sweet kisses slip from my face, I looked down
To find myself planted
In a soft meadow that smelled of rain.