Cross the abandoned and forgotten airdrome
Where grass as tall as us had made itself at home
Wind in the hair
Faster, faster we would go
(You can’t let go of the wheel
If you are slow)
We pedaled hard
Birds couldn’t catch us if they tried
Then – stopped our feet
Stretched out our arms
And we would glide
Above the dirt path
Toward the distant forest rising
Along the slightly arching infinite horizon
Back in the middle of July
When we could fly
Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")
prompted by Poetic Asides
No comments:
Post a Comment