Wings

the wings are still there
propped in a dark corner
of a forgotten room
since childhood

shaggy and moth-eaten
dull gray with dust
feathers drooping
beneath Time’s weight

they whisper of a dream
where anything is possible
where I can fly
if only I believe

and possess a child’s courage
to strap on gossamer wings
constructed of innocence and faith
and leap blindly into space

©2018 July Day

free verse



Image by Alan from Pixabay

Mind Moonbeams

Southern night lies hot, humid, still—
silent but for a whippoorwill
that sings from the branch of an oak,
taking me back to my childhood,
growing up surrounded by woods.
Farther afield, I hear a croak;
see mind moonbeams bounce off a stream.
And I dream, oh, I dream…I dream!
Living in memories evoked.

©2022 July Day

Nove Otto

Image by Giovanni from Pixabay

Obsolete

she is obsolete—
a needless, dusty fossil
boxed in the attic

©2022 July Day

senryu

Image by Peter H from Pixabay

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