First Flight

Remembering my first time skating

My wings,

Not on my back,

But on my feet.

 

They back me fly higher

Than any feathers.

And when I close my eyes

 

I can feel the magic

Of the blank, silver ice.

Waiting to be marked.

 

Skating. A magic that nothing

Can compare to.

It's not just a flight.

 

It's the flight.

You never forget it.

From the first moment on ice to your death.

 

Skating. I long for those days.

I'm wingless now,

Stranded on the ground.

 

Seeing those beautiful

Winged birds above me.

Living in utter bliss.

 

The sky, same as the ice.

The blades, your wings.

You can be anything with skates.

 

Yes, it takes time

To fly, to move like a dove.

It's worth it.

 

Skating.

The word rings

With a magic of its own.

 

Indescribably amazing.

The soft whisper of blades against ice.

The wind catching your fingers.

 

The cold freezes but does not sting.

It embraces your feathers

Urging you to fly.

 

Butterflies seem clumsy

Compared to the skaters

Gliding with utmost ease.

 

And I can remember those days

As I look at the stars.

Hoping for a past reborn.

 

You'll never want to leave the sky

After your first flight.

Your legs ache.

 

Your body is frozen.

It's nothing to you.

Skating, flying.

 

It's ignited a flame

Stronger than any cold.

You want to fly.

 

Unfurling your wings

Catch the wind.

Unstoppable.

 

Freedom.

Unleashed from a cage.

As pure as tears.

 

A word to describe it.

Magic.

First flight, and last.

 

Everything that has a start

Has an end.

My wings fall aside.

 

And I hope for a past reborn.

To be free again.

To skate, to fly.

 

It's the flight.

You'll never forget it.

When you unfurled your wings.

 

When you had your first flight.