Flight on the Ground

   There are many ways to fly.

   Some say the only way is by plane, or helicopter, or hanglider.

   Some only fly in their dreams.

   But me, I think as long as there is imagination, anything is flying.

   Flying is when you put on on a pair of skates.   When you get on the floor, wobbling like a baby bird, you turn into an owl whose mother has finally pushed out of the nest.   You flap about, trying to keep balance, and then suddenly, it clicks.   You then zoom away into the stars.
   Flying is riding a bike.   You puff and struggle going up the hill, but when it's time to go down, you whoosh and zoom, like a dragon flying across the edge of the ocean with one forepaw trailing along in the water.
   Flying is dancing.   Your stomach is full of butterflies backstage, trying to calm yourself with idle chatter with a few of your friends.   Then the curtain opens, and you're no longer the scared little girl backstage.   Your dress shines in the spotlight, your eyes gleam, and you are a star.
Kitty has to go,
Grace Anna Rose