With Wings

I woke up from a dream

in which

we burst open plume-gates of feathers.

Their forsaken little remnants

falling like promise against the covers.

And we

did what we could.

Like we always did.

I had limbs

but you had limbs, too.

You reached high, but

my two little feet

never served to lift me

as high off the ground

quite like you.

We had it all before we had nothing.

We had no roof, only ears.

Only thread, and time, and fears.

And flight.

So therein I stood.

I tossed you these plumes.

I gave you my barrenness.

You stitched me to bloom.

And I walk in a field with wings.

*This poem was inspired by a sweet little reunion I had with a friend last week where we made it a point to choose a random line, from a random song, and end a poem with it. You know, just trying to keep our creative juices flowing. So we casually spent the night going through some of our favorites artist and looking up lyrics. Upon coming across Amy Stroup's With Wings, we were sold. She is one of my favorites. The perfect artist for a rainy day. Give her a listen! And check out my friend's version at Words We Walk In.