Sky In My Pocket

When I was a young man,
I did not tell anyone

about the time
I tied feathers to my arms
and tried to fly.

I did not have the gift
Icarus’s father had,

of being able
to build something
perfect,
and instead,

I did what I could.
I built something,

anything,
and I used it
to reach for the heavens.
I failed,
and fell,
but I have
a little piece of sky in my pocket,
and I carry it with me,
wherever I go.