Winged things
are meant to fly,
like birds, and planes,
and dragonflies…
angels…
I had dreams once –
winged creatures
who soared
limitless skies…
free…
Until fear –
a cruel master –
caged my heart,
clipped my spirit…
broken…
Age and loss
turned the page,
locks illusions
unravelled…
escape…
Vulnerable,
I walk, remember
wings, lift my face
to inclement weather…
fly…
(Written in response to Willow Poetry’s weekly challenge: What do you See?)