Soaring through the sky,
Adrift among the clouds.
Graceful flailing,
We don't have wings.
Tis but a longing,
To fly.
Crashing into the puffy whiteness of blue,
Cold air on your face.
A whimsical smile,
Made of laughter.
Going up-up-up!
Before we end up down.
Though we are made to walk,
We can't help but wonder: what is it like to fly?
