missed tip

March 19, 2011
By Anonymous

She could fly to the snow crusted tips
of all the mountains residing in the sky
Her wings, fragile yet strong, will make it
unless words, jabs, threats, promises
keep her from starting

the snow melts as new life generates
heat and scorching rays cause an evanescence
she did not reach the tips of ice
before the warmth of season could

back where she is
her wings are tight, inflexible
body pulls and tugs
they relax and become limber

with her newfound regret
she jumps for what could have been
will it ever come again?

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