Flight

I've never had wings.
I've never felt the wind.
Yet for what I have known.
I may well have flown.

One time, when I was five, I ran really fast.
Everyone around gaped and gasped as I galloped past
I leapt onto the bench in front of me and pushed down
Nor the lack of height nor the impact could make me frown

Age twelve, older, wiser, I did slightly better
All I simply did was to pen my predicament in a letter
Attach it with twine to the leg of something which could fly
And feel my insides and my words jump high

One year ago, actually, on this very day, I
tried to see if I could touch the sky
I got very close, by climbing the tallest ladder I could find
(Or at least, I got quite close in my mind)

Then, in fact, I tried once more just last week
I am sad to say that my arms were too weak
Though I flapped up and down, it just wasn't enough
As just a sadly (un-avian) ball of muscle and fluff

But what can I take from there steps into the unknown
For I still can't really say by any measure that I've flown
But I still ignore the doubters, and those with contempt.
For after all, I've tried. And the pleasure's in the attempt