Wings

• Jordan Sims, Grade 11, Brighton Secondary School
• Poetry
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

A slither of glass, so thin a pin would shatter it to pieces.
A cloud so dilute, a light breeze of warm air would roll through and disrupt its perfectly curious configuration.
A handful of fallen snow, so soft it melts through my stinging, roseate fingers.
A single stalk of grass so mellow in veil it curls over amongst the meadow of daisies and sunburnt soil.

Does a moth decide to have such a delicate existence, so frail?
Does a miniscule and eggshell yet lean and lusty creature decide to have wings?

Carried through the wind, it somersaults between the branches.
Narrow twigs for a base, it perches on a moist and sunken, salty leaf.
This is a frail young one, but so aged in cognisance.
This is a silent young one, but so sonorous in its song.

A grasp of tissue paper, so delicate it swathes around a surface of thorns.
A first word, or last word perhaps, so overflown with uncertainty and unease.
A dream of mine, so precious and dear, it evanesces to a serpentine land.
A heart of a young one, so feeble not a darling could still defrost the caliginous, black ice.

(16 lines, despite spacings)