Wings

There was a boy who yearned to fly
And, for hours, he'd watch the birds in the sky
And one could tell by his eye's gleam
That some way, someday he would realize his dream

From his body he sprouted wings
--- Beautiful, gorgeous, spectacular things
With the colors of a thousand springs
And all the splendor which nature brings

And they spanned the entire world,
Shielding all from rains as they unfurled
And, as they were drawn and curled,
The color trails swooped and swirled

First, he leapt into the wind
But, from this plan, he chose to rescind
So he kept the wind to his back,
But all he knew faded to black

He tried to take off on a run,
But grew entangled in the rays of the sun
Finally, he tried just staying still
And remained just that way until...

He gazed once more at the beauty he found
Within the sky, then looked around
At what to him was now a cell
From which he would eternally dwell

And so his wings began to rot,
His dreams of flight were no longer a thought
The colors, once brilliant, began to dull
...Leaving behind nothing at all

He watched as others took his place
And soared above with glamour and grace
And, to each one, he wished them well
As he awaited the tolling of the bell

For that was all that remained,
Now indelibly ingrained
Upon his soul to bear the shame,
Upon the stone to bear his name

So, he watched as the world passed him by
Without a glance to his tear-stained eye
And, when came the time for him to die
---- Since no one cared, no one asked why

-T. Beechey