to all wings

In a world where dreams unfold on high,

Where magic touches the open sky,

Everyone has wings to soar and play,

Except for me, with a different way.

Their wings are bright as the morning sun,

Shaped like feathers, strong and won,

Rainbow colors dancing in the breeze,

A sight to see, a wondrous tease.

Mine are broken, worn and gray,

A reflection of my troubled day,

No vibrant hue, no shape to delight,

Just a dull reminder of my plight.

They stretch and flap with ease and might,

As they glide through the air with pure delight,

Their beauty leaves me feeling sad and blue,

A reminder of what I'll never do.

But still I dream of soaring high,

To leave my doubts and fears to die,

To feel the rush of the wind in my face,

And see the world from a different place.

Perhaps someday, my wings will mend,

And I'll join them in their wondrous trend,

Until then, I'll watch them from below,

And imagine the freedom they know.

For though my wings may be broken and gray,

My heart still longs to soar and play,

To join the ones who fly with ease and might,

And leave my worries behind in the light.