By Patrick Jayson Ralla
Poetry

My arms morphed
into wings. Gray
feathers ruffled through
the breeze of polluted air,
as I dreamed
of a new day. Caged
in a mortal coil, I longed to be
where the sun resides—
a place of warmth, eternal
mornings and no nights.
I soared high
above the clouds, glided
with the wind, and went towards
the blazing sun, abandoning
a vessel below the ground.