the wings are still there
propped in a dark corner
of a forgotten room
since childhood
tattered and moth-eaten
dull gray with dust
feathers drooping
beneath Time’s weight
they whisper of a dream
where anything is possible
where I can fly
if only I believe
and possess a child’s courage
to strap on gossamer wings
constructed of faith and innocence
and leap blindly into space
© 2019 KT Workman
Timeless and lovely!
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Thank you! 🙂
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The fact that you have the blog, continue to write, and face the dreaded blank piece of paper on a regular basis shows that you still wear the wings from time-to-time. Unless, of course, you’ve grown a pair that stays hidden until you need them. Another wonderful piece, Kathy.
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They’re in pretty bad shape, old and shedding, but they still work…somewhat. 😊
Thanks, J.
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Another awesome piece of writing.
An excellent poem Kathy. Bravo. 👏👏👏
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Thank you, Alan. 🙏 I’m glad you like it. 😊
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Great post and thank you for liking my post. Getting likes from a wonderful blogger like you I am very happy and motivated. Again thank you so much.
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My pleasure reading.
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I hope you like it.
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Fly away, fly away 👍🦅🦋 for sure.
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Oh the dreams of childhood, when we thought only of possibilities and how to make them really happen. Who would have imagined that wings could become fingers on a keyboard, making words that fly into the hearts and minds of others? Place your hands on that keyboard. Do you see those wings? I do.
Elizabeth
https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2019/05/22/butterfly-light/
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I see what you mean… 🙂
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Thanks for flying with us.
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And thank you for reading. 🙂
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Your poetry had wings 😎
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Thank you. ☺️
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