At a young age, I was told to cut off my wings. They told me I could never ever fly.

The strings in my handmade kite I've hidden under my bed. Still, they've already managed to pull the strings before I could even say "wait" or "please". Please no.

Waiting is not for the weak. The weak doesn't wait they told me. Patience is something I should be working on, they said, when I only asked for a piece of candy they told me was bad for my teeth.

So I say please one more time, a begging whisper to the wind---or to whomever in the sailing crimson deep red blue soiree.

Now, I have grown older. But sometimes the little child in me wants to go out in to the rain and spread its wings to take back the childhood I never got to have.

November 4, 2022