Princess Taking Flight – A Poem

She sat downr-WOMAN-ON-WALKER-large570

beside me, her

purse hitting my

knee. She glanced

over at me

and smiled brightly.

“Oh, I am sorry. You know women and their purses.”

I was uplifted

looking at her

smile. I pointed

to her purse.

“It’s all right. It matches your walker.”

The purse was

purple, the same

colour as the

streamers she had

dangling from her

walker. She smiled.

“Well, it is my favourite colour.”

“Mine too.”

We shared a

moment of happy

silence as the

bus stopped next

to a high

school. Kids got

off the bus

and another group

of them ran

by the window,

calling out to

each other joyfully.

“Oh, to be that young again. Not a care in the world.”

“To have that freedom.”

I said. She

looked at me.

“You know, when I was a little girl, I had this scarf. I would tie it round my neck and then run.”

She gave a

reminiscent sigh and

patted my hand.

“I used to watch it as it streamed out behind me as I ran. It was as if I were flying. I felt like a princess.”

“You still are.”

I said. She

rewarded me with

the brightest, most

dazzling smile. I

blushed when she

patted my hand

again. She let

out another reminiscent sigh.

“I remember how free I used to feel when I ran, with my scarf flowing out behind me.”

She looked out

the window as

if she could

see herself there.

“That was my freedom.”

She said. Then

she looked at

me and instead

of patting my

hand took it

in hers.

“Are you free? Do you have freedom? Do you feel like you can fly?”

I thought of

everything I had

in my life,

how I had

finally found love,

finally started coming

into my own.

“I am and I do. For the first time in my life.”

She released my

hand and patted

it again, looking happy.

“Oh, I’m so glad. For its only when you learn to fly that you can truly see the world.”

She reached over

and pulled the

bell and waited

for the bus

to stop. She

stood and looked

back at me.

“You have a good day now. And remember to keep flying.”

I watched her

get off the

bus and when

the bus started

moving again, I

looked for her

but she wasn’t

there, as if

she had already

flown away.

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About Jamieson Wolf

Jamieson an award winning, Number One Best Selling Author. He writes in many different genre's. Learn more at www.jamiesonwolf.com
This entry was posted in Poems, Talking Poems, Talking to the Flame and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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