I hate to admit
It's sad to say
I've never had Pink-tinged fingers
or a wind-bitten face.
For too tall are my dreams;
my fear of heights
Have stalled my engines,
my hopes erased.
As I gaze out across the plains
I feel a sudden ache in my heart
andI want no more than linen and sky.
As I promise myself that,
I realize
My fear of heights will never allow me to fly.
But rather fall.
