By Alexandra Livingston
We walk on the ground, or drive in a car,
But that's not what I want, not by far,
To be stuck so low, it frustrates me,
A dove, a raven, even a humble bumblebee.
The sky is so vast, it covers us all,
Yet unlike those birds, I know I would fall,
Some dream of fame, some don't want to die,
My dream, above all others, is to fly in the sky.
Dash this way and that, the wind rushes past,
Looking down, I smile knowing it will last,
I don't really need wings, though that would be great,
I'm meant to just be up there, it had to be fate.
Maybe to escape, and never come back,
No more troubles, or worries, or wondering where I lack,
Is it so strange? So out of the norm?
To want to chance in such a way? To transform?
We turn waste to water, turn darkness to light,
Or maybe its me, maybe I'm alone in my fight,
I think that's fine, to be on my own,
But one of these days, somehow, I'm flying home.
July 18th, 2005