Flying

They were flying,
I could see it in their faces,
eyes wide, big grins, flowing hair.

Plummeting down the steep slopes,
it was freedom without adults,
no barriers, no restrictions,
going with nature
on a man-made slope.

Their whole beings throbbed
with power.
The lack of control
meant conquering the world.
30 seconds, it was over.
They landed
safe and sound.
The thrill still pounding
in their hearts,
sensations tingling
in their minds.

“I wanna try too,” I begged.
“You’re too little,” my brother said.
But the indignant girl
got her way.

Sitting at the top,
twirling with pride and fear,
I gave a little shove,
and went flying into the air.

My eyes wide open,
afraid to look,
but curious all the same.

Passing blurs of tables and sofas,
the carpet was like quicksand,
sucking me in,
into its embrace
of the unknown.
Freedom… maybe,
but more like fear and awe.

Almost to the bottom,
I was coming out of the tunnel
and into the light,
but I could not stop,
no breaks,
but my butt off the cardboard
and my forehead
against the closet door.

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