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Imperfect Angel
August 1, 2012
My travel begins here.
Where my arms
Will turn to powerful wings.
I watch as others transform before my eyes.
I look down
And see no change in my body.
One cannot fly
With only one arm.
I yell to the others,
Now fifty feet above me,
But they do not turn around.
My voice is muffled
When my fingers stretch,
And my one forearm turns a bristly white.
I jump without success.
My feet do not hover above the ground
Like the others did.
My lone wing flaps
For no one to hear,
Because no one is left to listen.
© Elizabeth H., San Bernardino, CA
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