On wings of freedom.
She flew high.
Above the clouds.
Beyond; into silence.
She reached out
and took a star.
Out of millions,
she held one in her palm.
It twinkled.
Shining brightly.
Staring in awe.
A star in her hand.
Then it vanished.
Dawn had come.
She was awake.
The twinkle gone.
Her soul searching.
Her hand still warm.
She did hold a star.
It couldn’t be a dream.
How could she have been
among the stars?
Or held a star in her palm.
Answers waited beyond.
On wings of freedom.
By C.E. Pereira
(27-11-2018)
HoneyGwhiz 
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