When I write,
I fashion wings to soar away,
With words in place of feathers,
Verbs and emotions as down,
The ink acting as glue,
Wielding these curious machinations,
I long to swim on the zephyrs,
To travel betwixt sun and moon,
To spit in the eyes of vain gods,
Madness perhaps,
I’m not like Icarus though,
Wings not built of wax,
But of honest dreams,
And dreams are fireproof.

Comments
  1. Carol anne says:

    awesome writing ❤

  2. The finest example that I have read of an extended metaphor! Brilliant talent my friend.

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