Wings, 

Where are you? 

Would you be a part of me—

That are spread proudly, 

With a span of twenty feet, 

Made of long, golden feathers to help me fly? 

 

Wings, 

Where are you? 

Would you be a part of me—

That grow to support me, 

And help me reaching the sky? 

 

Wings, 

Where are you? 

I was born a human, 

And could you be a part of me—

That flap powerfully, 

Striking the demons, 

To help me wings my way up, far and beyond without a cry? 

 

Wings, 

Could you, 

Or would you—

Be another reason for me to smile? 

But where you are, I know not.

Should I just wait for you, dear wings, until these tears dry? 

— Jane l.