When Gravity Held No Meaning.

When Gravity Held Little Meaning.



I remember
crossing the sky
in sneaker-ed feet,
toes pointed upward,
against the

cobalt blue,
swinging skyward,
when I

was bored
between chains,
and then

letting go,
arms and

legs akimbo,
as I

sailed heavenward,
laughing uproariously,
and the

making a
polished two

point landing
in the

soft grass below,
I was

an astronaut
on a

space walk,
a pilot

bailing out
of his bomber,
a bird

on a

twenty story ledge,
leaping out

on a wing

and a prayer.
I was a kid

jumping across
the borders

of imagination,
and landing

many years later
as a poet

who misses
the rush

of his youth.

©-MFB III


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