PREMONITION III

 I've known you through the breath of winter withering and thawing everything that's worthless in me.

Thus afresh and new 

With the quivering steps, you tried to teach me to embrace the world.

But it stampeded me.

You tried to teach me how to fly instead, because walking can be treacherous and toilsome.

But I stubbornly refused to fly, because I thought it not wholesome.

So, now I walk and shuffle through the mud and dust. Because it is a familiar thing to do. 

And it serves me right.

Flying is for the daring. Which I am not.

I am a dreamer ancored to the haviest of dooms refusing to fight.

I am ancored to the doom of everyday routine, so wholesome to some.

But to me it's the end and the beginning of the premonition that I will never learn how to fly.