Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Wings

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
I had thought that I was flying,
White-hot wind beneath tanning leather.
Wings spun of sugar.
Delicate and soft.
A respectable reflection, I suppose.
I liked to fly… even in the rain,
A white Pegasus in fading twilight,
Cantering into the thought bubbles of those below,
Whited-out, of course.
You would have cried for me, I’m sure.
And my wings, spun of sugar,
D
i

s

i


n



t



e




g




r




a








t








e.
























Those who have never flown,
Know not what it feels to be grounded.



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback