Wind

It bushed against my face, the scent of sun

And trees. My limbs outstretched, prepared to fly

No true attention paid; those eyes, this sight,

A girl prepared to rise and leave my form

“What are you doing?” a voice whispers to me

Eyes closed, I recognize the words, the tone.

“I want to fly.” Sighs, familiar, annoyed.

This happens quite often. Desires to go, take

Off into this mind, my mind. This one place

Where I may exist in peace. The wind, so sweet,

Lulls all my thoughts, and draws me deep into

My fantasy. In these, my longing dreams,

Then time will stop its flow and I will be

Set free. The bindings on my arms, neck;

Too tight to fly for real and I fly away.

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