Wax Wings

Father said not to fly too high.
He made me wings of wax,
put a limit on the open sky.
I mean to listen, I meant
to stay low to the ground,
wings dragging in cool water,
stirring up dust in my wake.
But that was my Father’s mistake:
you cannot give your child wings
and expect them not to soar.
I couldn’t help it; I wanted more.
And oh, it was worth it!
The things I saw, so high above
everything I had ever known.
The new sense of perspective
got the better of me, I needed
to test the limits. See how high
I could go before I had to stop.
True, the fear was a bitter
stone in my throat on the way down.
But oh…the incomparable rush of joy
I felt on the way up.