Skies are captivating; the never-ending masses of azure, peach and violet stretching into the distant horizon, fading into vanilla twilight. Sometimes i'd look out the window and my fingers would gently brush the frosted glass, gently, gently now, as though I could touch the sky and i'd wonder out loud:
"Dear God,
when is it my turn to fly?"
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Write your thoughts kindly, ... or at least as thoughtfully as you possibly could.