Flying

I dream of flying.
Mostly it is gliding.
This sailing through the air,
leaves me without any care.
I'll swoop and swirl
droop and curl.

Then birds jealous of my jaunt
will ask, "what do you try?"
"I am flying," I will shout. "I am flying without any doubt".
They reply, "eventually you will fall. First you will stall, then you will fall, fall, fall".

Looking down, I see the ground.
My lungs compress.
My stomach rises through my chest.

Alone I'll lie, fallen from the sky,
trying not to cry.
My broken wings lie nearby
encrusted,
encrusted with my alibi.