Caught between timezones
and gliding among the clouds,
the wings of the plane
keep me grounded.
Reminding me that I do not
belong, that
I am not a part of this sky.
But sometimes, it is so easy
to look past
the harsh metal of the wings
into the forgiving darkness
of night.
The stars, always clearer up here,
make dreaming that much easier.
As the world spins below me
and I fly against the current of the clouds,
the stars shoot by, waiting
to be wished upon.
and gliding among the clouds,
the wings of the plane
keep me grounded.
Reminding me that I do not
belong, that
I am not a part of this sky.
But sometimes, it is so easy
to look past
the harsh metal of the wings
into the forgiving darkness
of night.
The stars, always clearer up here,
make dreaming that much easier.
As the world spins below me
and I fly against the current of the clouds,
the stars shoot by, waiting
to be wished upon.
