I've never had wings.I've never felt the wind.Yet for what I have known.I may well have flown.One time, when I was five, I ran really fast.Everyone around gaped and gasped as I galloped pastI leapt onto the bench in front of me and pushed downNor the lack of height nor the impact could make me frownAge twelve, older, wiser, I did slightly betterAll I simply did was to pen my predicament in a letterAttach it with twine to the leg of something which could flyAnd feel my insides and my words jump highOne year ago, actually, on this very day, Itried to see if I could touch the skyI got very close, by climbing the tallest ladder I could find(Or at least, I got quite close in my mind)Then, in fact, I tried once more just last weekI am sad to say that my arms were too weakThough I flapped up and down, it just wasn't enoughAs just a sadly (un-avian) ball of muscle and fluffBut what can I take from there steps into the unknownFor I still can't really say by any measure that I've flownBut I still ignore the doubters, and those with contempt.For after all, I've tried. And the pleasure's in the attempt

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http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/12/flight.html

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