Out Of Reach
If Only I Could Sprout Wings
Rain-soaked lilac bowers drip
Petals and raindrops both.
Shellshocked. Numb.
I take it all in, yet nothing registers.
The rain pours down from the pale gray clouds above.
I tip my head back and wait for the rain shower to bring me back to life.
Who am I?
What will become of us?
Could the universe shrink me down?
Perhaps re-absorb me?
Oh! Could I become an owl?
What I’d give in this moment to fly away, so wild and free.
Nowhere in particular I’d have to be.
No burdens to bear.
No shame to shoulder.
I could fly away from here.
Arrive on your windowsill,
Assure us both that we’ll survive.
Maybe I could become a bumblebee?
Small, fuzzy, seemingly carefree.
Please, can we become bumblebees?
I’ll form a hive inside that tree.
Everything we’d need would be within reach.
