Imaginary wings

I’ve always wanted to fly.

When I was younger, and we went to the park, the swings were always my favorite.

I would close my eyes, and swing as high as I could.

I would reach for the sky, and pretend I had wings.

My hair would whip in my face, and the wind would sting my skin.

But the feeling of flying, free as a bird, made me immune to the world.

With my eyes shut, I could see in my mind, wherever I wished to go.

I could imagine the taste of the sky, and the smell of the clouds.

I could hear the sound of the breeze, and see the blue through the slits in my eyelids.

I wished I could stay there, amongst the clouds.

But at some point, I had to open my eyes.

9 thoughts on “Imaginary wings

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