Sequel: Flying ›
Flying
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So this is what flying feels like; an endless tumble through bright sky, part of the sunset, but toppling through it.
Why is the window hurtling away from me?
Why does the ground reach hungry arms to catch me?
Why am I afraid?
I wanted to fly.
But gravity spoke in his quiet gravel voice.
“No, come," he said, "Come to the ground."
Why is the window hurtling away from me?
Why does the ground reach hungry arms to catch me?
Why am I afraid?
I wanted to fly.
But gravity spoke in his quiet gravel voice.
“No, come," he said, "Come to the ground."