For I Can Fly

There are those
Who cannot see above the clouds.
Or dream beyond
The rainbows of the stars.
People blind to colors
Such as midnight raven blue
Or ocean thunder black
Yellow orange mango sunset hues, or
Purple heather painted vines
And velvet lavender lilac blues
Nestled in the mountain’s lakes.
There are those for whom
I do not write a gift of tears…
Words on paper
From my very soul.
For there are those
Who would not understand
Where I have flown, and
Where I still intend to go.

Kyle Christopher

Thirty thousand feet

Above the ground

The world is whizzing by below

Yet, I’m standing still

At six hundred miles an hour

Above the clouds

Below the sun

Remembering

A few short hours ago

I held you curled

Your tiny face inside my neck

Sheltering you

While you slept

Feeling you

Dream your dreams

Of the person

You would become

Curious look in your eyes

When you sucked my finger

Nothing coming out

Flashing me a smile that lit

My heart with a thousand candles

Had to return you to your Mom

Hugging you goodbye, knowing

Four days in April

I held in my arms

The miracle called “you.”

Vermillion Flycatcher

There are days, I’m a bird

Capable of flight

Have my wings extended

So far the stretch tingles

The feathers of red and brown

For I am a three inch Roma tomato

Who flies with brown feathers

Attached, growing

On round fat sides

Flittering through the cottonwoods

Turning yellow, gold and orange

With the cold of the autumn nights

Approaching quickly along the banks

Of dry Southwestern rivers

Dry as bones picked clean by vultures

Cold as only an Arizona night can become

All rights reserved.  ©2009 by Sara Fryd

Wish You Were Here

 

God…

Please decorate

the sky with clouds today

Because without you,

it’s blue

and lonely just like

me.

 

All rights reserved.  ©2009 by Sara Fryd