Flying

This is in response to an email sent by my cousin, asking for poems written by family and friends for a school project, a poetic description of where I feel the most alive.

Spinning downhill, out of control

Tires underneath, on a roll

The wind is freezing, I don't care,

The breeze whips violently through my hair

     Eyes closed and mouth agape,

     On my bicycle, I find an escape

     Birds are calling, ever and anon,

     A few more pedals and I'll be gone

This is the place where I'm most free

A sweet escape, the place to be

I confess to you, my dear friend

There is not a thing that could contend --

     To the feeling that is found

     When you are flying by, free and unbound

 

Reviews

[justjenn_2u]

I can understand. The world is your utopia when free to take in the fresh air and not locked in a miserable 4 wall room. Nice poem with good imagery. Enjoyed.