Photo from Wikimedia Commons / Licensed under Creative Commons
    Photo from Wikimedia Commons / Licensed under Creative Commons

    I’ve got these wings upon my feet

    which I have kept in wraps.

    And biding time, I settled down,

    tossing all my maps.

    The town I knew was small, true,

    when looking at vast Earth.

    The days grew longer still,

    my wings longed to leave this dearth.

    There was no lack of company,

    although many had moved on

    citing wider horizons

    and seeking brighter dawns.

    At first I missed not sorely,

    for none had touched my heart.

    Till forth did come an eager lass

    whose talk did move my wings to start.

    ‘Twas not till she had left my door

    that I heeded my wings,

    desiring to quench a thirst

    not luxury of kings.

    To the sturdy doors I turned,

    with no goodbye to say.

    But before I reached the clouds,

    down I was pulled to stay.

    A hand did hinder mighty wings,

    pulling from below.

    A voice cried out, familiar –

    “No, you shall not go!”

    With heavy heart I did land

    among the dirt and leaves,

    bondage rising from the ground,

    roots sent from the trees.

    Fierce protest arose within,

    causing me to fight.

    But no good did it prove to be

    against the roots’ strong might.

    Bitterness I did befriend

    as I was bound by root

    and exploits of the eager lass

    boasted of her latest loot.

    And on I wasted, helpless

    while my wings began to fade

    after which I was released,

    accepting a fair trade.

    Freedom was mine, they promised

    but only among the town,

    for if I wandered farther,

    they would beat me down.

    So my wings did leave me,

    flying high, tasting air I never would.

    While on the ground I was “content,”

    and lived the best I could.


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