No wings and a dire need to fly,
I need an airplane
and the fare is high.
Though I have been collecting for a while
in boxes made of mud and wood
my money, is all in small coins
unspent on other desires since childhood.
For the flight
I pay the fare in coins
and after the rise I walk out of the plane,
without wings and a dire need to fly.
So again each day I collect coins
weirdly shaped and sized.
Some small like time, some heavy as my mind.
Having flown often you say ‘its just once or twice
maybe thrice and the thrill will die,
the airplane will loose its charm and so will the flight’
but only if you knew how I had collected my coins
and how I had tore open all the boxes of mud and wood
for that airplane flight,
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