FLY HIGH

Stop.
Frozen bodies around us.
Touch.
My hand in yours.
Warm.
We are still warm.
Beg.
To stay this way.

Simple toys of paper airplanes
give me hope
that dreams fly at the speed of a thought –
light enough to be a breath
on a steamed mirror
that reflects you
next-to-me
and not the other way round.

– Chatty Owl –

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22 thoughts on “FLY HIGH

  1. purple says:

    I like how you take three seemingly disjointed abstractions, warmth, dreams, and for lack of a better term, perception of togetherness, and weave them into a poem that makes perfect sense, something that moved me and made me think and feel something as I read it. That is what poetry is supposed to be about. Great job.

    • Chatty Owl says:

      Thank you so much! I’ve been so busy lately, really struggling to catch up with everybody’s feeds. Thanks for being so sweet and enjoying what i write..

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