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I flew once, with wings of paper, fragile, thin,
breathtaking, painted every color of my dreams.

Palate only of a child’s imagination. Whirling
in the driveway to Aretha, spinning round spiral

grooves etched into my vinyl mind, I flapped
my wings like a frenzied hummingbird , until

my sparkly Jelly sandals lifted up, rising off
the cement. Airborne, winging across a graying

sky, lost in pirouette, I never realized I had entered
a shadowy, wooded maze. Abruptly, a stray branch

tore my right wing. Startled, defiled, heart missing
a beat, I toppling to hard earth. Eying the thick

partition of old maples and pines, enclosure of bark
and leaves, there was no way out. The driveway

seemed universes away. So I hugged my scraped,
stinging knees, rocked, and prayed for mended wings.

But… paper wings cannot un-tear.

Written by: Danielle Hark, daniellehark.com

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