AS A CHILD By Michael Parsons

AS A CHILD

As a child I longed to fly - 
but not like a kite, with its strings taut against the wind,
strangled, dipping, plunging to the ground,
its colours crunching at our feet.

As a child I longed to fly –
but not like Icarus, with foolish contempt and pride,
circling downward, crashing with force,
the colour draining from his face.

As a child I longed to fly –
but not like a plane, scheduled, crammed with noise,
cumbersome, weighty, unbending,
its colour morphing into sky.

As a child I longed to fly –
to soar on the wings of eagles, uninhibited,
ascending on life’s currents,
my colours deepening, bright and clear.

As a child I longed to fly – 
and perhaps I did.

Michael Parsons is a newly published poet, having come to writing poetry later in life. He enjoys the discipline. He is fascinated by words, imagery and the universal sense that personal writing may prompt.