She sits by the window upon an old wooden chair keenly listening to the squeals and laughter of play she …
Watch Me Fly!
‘I believe I can fly,’
he said to himself and took a step
towards the wall and looked up.
If birds could fly
lift off from the branches
pushing higher and wings aflutter
then so could he, in the neat costume he’d stitched.
‘I believe I can fly,
rise up and touch the sky,’
he chanted, psyching himself
with ever inch of the house scaled.
Just a little more up,
gain a little more height,
he looked up, the blazing blue sky beckoned
a bird watched him curiously from upon her perch on the chimney.
‘I will fly, you just watch me,’ he said
eyeing the bird with every step,
he finally reached the top rung,
hoisting himself up on the terra cotta blistering.
He took a moment
inhaled a deep breath of pride,
he grinned at the bird and flapped
his wings of floral sheet
stolen from the clothes line.
The bird took fright and flew on by
landing on the tree in the yard ahead.
He stepped to the edge,
his feet slightly slipping
and from there he stared
at the ground beneath.
He stretched his arms as wide as could be
looking at the figure of his mother beneath
chattering with the neighbor, probably about tangerine.
‘Mum,’ he cried, puffing out his lungs, and flapping his wings,
‘Mum, look! Look! Watch me fly!’
and when his mother turned in absolute horror,
he widened his wings and leapt.
And upon the trampoline, fell.