Angel of Flight

 
Angel of Flight 💚
About 3 years ago , i started to believe i had wings . When i was in intimate conversation with someone , a friend or lover , i would ask them “what color are my wings?” “white...” they would always say . “like angel wings.” “Mmm” i would respond barely amused by the association . “what sound do they make when i fly?” id ask . in hopes a more creative response . one boy in particular told me “they whistle.” that amused me . i, however,  disagree . my wings are black . the deepest black the eye has ever seen . so deep , you can not see them physically at all . when they open . and spread . large and wide , everyone who witnesses fall dormant in awe . the feathers are thick and strong . the outer ones drip gold . a shimmer like stars or the purest souls . when i began to flap them the rush is exhilarating . the wind they cause can move mountains , spin reality and sweep giants off their feet . when i fly . when i soar... they do whistle . singing through the wind a song ive only composed for God . often times i walk down the street and i can feel them calming sitting behind me . i flex my back and twist my neck . i inhale , i ground myself . being that flight bound , that often can leave a girl drifting . but me ... we . we know better than that . for without roots , wings could mean trouble . it’s a blessing to know that the sky only exists because the ground loves it so .