Posted in Fiction, Poetry

High

 

When I was five

And not a meter high

I used to dream that I could fly.

My greatest wish

For all my life

Was but to bend

And snake

And whip

In the wind.

I dreamt of blue skies

Where I might roam

Where birds are free

And man is caged.

I made paper plane airships

And drove them through the air

Perfecting each one

With precision and care.

I cried the first time

I flew in a plane.

I  knew, I would never be so high again.

But then I discovered the drug at 16,

And I flew higher

And higher

Like the greatest wish

For all my life.

 

CRG

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Author:

Short stories all written, inspired by what I see and hear and everything in between. All work is written by Cathryn Rose Goddard unless otherwise specified.

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