I caught them
Eating her Wings
Trying to make her more "stable."

And taking away
What she has been graced with.

When all her feathers are gone,
I wonder if she will still reach for the sky
With that same look in her eyes.

That look that defines hope.

“Why can’t I taste the clouds anymore?”
She sings.

Now starting to realize her dilemma.
I fear she will bend her arms to look like wings,
And break them in her attempt.

Thus,
I will hold her up
So she never finds out what she has lost.
So she can still feel the breeze
Break against her body.

Because I can't picture the sky
With out the soft outline
Of her silhouette.