When I Fly Poem by Tara Crown
When I Fly
I'd rather not be
a balloon on a string,
bobbing and nodding
silent agreements with the wind,
helplessly tilting and
quietly straining
for blue sky that waits
endlessly
Nor would I be,
immobile and clumsy,
a rock tied to a parachute,
dumbly numbly
watching patched earth
swing and drift
upward to grab hold and
gobble
But a single feather to
sweep away smiling,
resilience floating,
riding on high currents
above what storms,
flying, unattached and
never touched by
rain
When i was reading your poem, actually i felt i had wings, because i was flying with your words. Sweet poem and good use of English. keep it up my friend
This is an amazing poem, you've made me feel weightless... ~~Elya Thorn~~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/21/2024 8:17:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Another terrific poem I had somehow missed! I love the balloon description of bobbing and nodding silent agreements with the wind. Wonderful. -chuck