Feet off the ground
breeze gracing our cores
wings outstretched
through the cobalt skies
still early in time.
Winds gain strength
Thin air, becomes thick
Clouds mix into a blur of grey.
The distance below decreasing,
as our wings have been bruised by words.
Apologies and warmth from our skins
We regain space from the ground.
But the clock hands rapidly circle,
And it isn’t long,
before our bodies are beaten,
only skimming the surface,
Always between falling and flying.
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