WINGS

Charmed by the rusting old thing

you went there, of wrought chains and a wooden plank
was an old, abandoned swing

Nostalgia caught up with you,
with your highened excitement,
conspicuously, in your heart, it did imbue.

The joy had made you impervious,
seeing this made me a tad bit jelous, but then,
I cursed myself for being so envious

It was delightful to watch you sway
the firm grip on the chains
made sure you would not stray

But you, well, you wanted to fly
And reach the sky? I chide,
The rusting swing can take you only as high.

It’s only the wings that can make one fly, I thought
for them, from time immemorial,
I had valiantly sought.

I see the gleaming intent in your eyes
to transgress, to break free
but I deem the idea to be utterly unwise

Well, you still seem to be impervious
slowly making me more curious, but then,
the idea, unmistakably overzelous

Your ideas are taking their toll,
Your gaze still transfixed upon the heights
the swing, now clearly out of control.

All I hope is for you, not to fall
Your psyche dented, greater would be the pall

My envy turns into pride, I see you go past
Fly my angel, you soar at last......

-sk
08 .03.2011