"Flying" - a Poem

The wind in my hair 

Should hold myself back

Am I really ready to fly?

Do I dare look down?

Will the fear make me fall?

Or will I soar even higher than before?

It's too late to look now
I have to get out there
Because I was born to fly 
I don't own any wings
My father he helps me
He's shown me how to fly

With his steady hand he teaches
He shows me all the pitfalls
I trust in his good word
Shortly at first
Then flying for length
Stronger and higher I soar

I couldn't ever imagined 
That I'd fly in the wind
That I'd ever see such things
For once on the ground
I could only see
What was right in front of me

The wind in my hair
I've been made for flying
But I also know I must take care
For this is a gift given
And could be taken away
This life is not mine it's a gift