She smiles, touching her wings, glances down.
Such a large landscape surrounding her, nearly no time
to caress it all.
A soft satellite gaze from beyond the clouds,
centered on this heart that sends shocks to the ground.
A guitar chord strummed
not nearly hushed, so tight the pull,
the sound wakes the world.
World yawns, stretches,
searches for the strum until she catches their eyes,
sorry to have disturbed, but this is her time.
Time to ( _____ )
Wake up. Hands aware, this vein holding blood.
A steady stream keeps her eyes focused to meet the new day,
a new cycle of breaths to curl her toes, hum in her ears
catch in wind blown blown,
in this time where there is light.
It dries her wings from the soaked tears
to hold, hold, hold it near -- dry wings allow her to fly.
I F L Y
is it time.
is it allowed.
only once do i need to try
to know my answer
heaven or skies.