A poem. By me.
Barely have I felt solid land,
Earths impressive skin under mine.
Those stable legs don’t belong to me,
But the person I desire to be.
My heart is engulfed in blue flames,
To hot to touch,
to beautiful to ignore.
The feeling of flying is getting old,
Wrinkles are forming on my wings.
My youth waits for me,
Cradled in the unpredictable grasp of ,
Mother nature.
I watch it grow smaller,
With every distance gained.
Memories,
They are in the clouds.
I reach out to touch,
they feel like dust.
My eyelids are falling,
My limbs are giving up.
Maybe I will fall back to earth.
