Light

That's how I feel-
like the winter-fringed
breeze might scoop
me up into its wings,

fly

away with me trapped
in its feathered embrace.
I am a snowflake.
A wisp of eiderdown,

liberated

from gravity. My body
is light. Ephemeral.
My head is light.
I want to sway

beneath

the weight of air,
dizzy with thought.
Light filters through
my closed eyelids.

The sun,

chasing shadows,
tells me I'm not
afloat in dreams.

Auteur: Ellen Hopkins