It was a moon-less night in a place they haven't yet named.
It was me and a breeze of air that touched my hands reminding me that I haven't
grown wings yet and even though I've nearly backpacked my way on every corner
of the earth it seems that I'm still here on the planet of gravity where all
dreams are pulled down to the place where all sweet lost things go, the shoe
box where I kept my yesterday and promised it would be home for my tomorrow all
down there with my mother's smile and the spark in her eyes and movie tickets that
still smelled like popcorn. A pebble from every beach God created and the time
I asked him for sunshine in a jar, he tried but I had to go, all the bus
tickets I kept and the sketch that had nothing but every smile I met.
Maybe you'll tell me there's no such thing as wings and maybe one
day I'll grow them and leave the planet of gravity.