I’m building a pair of wings – small, white, art deco, with two sets of seven lights. Like carpenters who build bridges without nails, I’m trying to hold these wings together only with notches.
I will dress as Cupid for an upcoming Valentine’s Day party. I’d like to bring couples together especially since I currently sit out the dating game. Perhaps I can pass along notes like in High School. In most drawings, Cupid doesn’t wear much…
I’m building a pair of wings because I want to fly. I’m ready to fly away from the old tiredness, heartache, and loneliness, into new skies of employment, love, and community. My back is stretching. My chest is opening. I finally have the muscles to support these wings.
I have abandoned a lot of wings over the years. Some are too heavy. Others don’t light up bright enough. One pair could poke out eyes.
I was wearing my first pair of wings when Greg introduced himself. We dated ever since that night. He may have been drawn like a moth to the shiny and new. Perhaps I’m making not bird wings, but butterfly wings to attract a mate.