The angel speeding down the runway pulls up her wings flaps, and, wouldn’t you know it, wobbles, then dribbles to a stop. She stands on the windy tarmac, embarrassed, brushing her blond hair from her eyes, trying to remember how to elevate herself, wishing she’d worn jeans instead of the girly skirt that works for […]
via POETRY: Flight by Jeanne Murray Walker — The Value of Sparrows
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