Wings

the wings are still there
propped in a dark corner
of a forgotten room
since childhood

shaggy 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 innocence and faith
and leap blindly into space

Photo via Pixabay

 

Broken Things

how do you mend broken things
can you mend broken things
that can’t be seen…
cracks that splinter a bleeding heart
clefts that rend a battered soul
chasms that cleave a suspicious mind

empty words are not bandaids
good deeds are not splints
love is not glue…
to things that were broken so long ago
that crucial pieces were forever lost
to the merciless left hand of time

Photo via Pixabay