Kids taunted as he ran
Through cobbled streets clutching onto a
Blue plastic bag that fluttered, feathered, blew
In the oncoming rush of air.
His concentrated brow, furrowed, mystified
As his attempts to reach
The sky and stars, the wide blue yonder,
Fell to earth with the same bump
He did as his legs tired.
Toys were few,
But dreams were free as –
the wind, the birds, the tall tales
He heard of angels, cloud dancing and cities in the sky.
Icarus knew his blue plastic wings would
One day work.
The found Icarus Smith hanging from a tree,
Up by Potter’s Field,
His blue plastic wings tight
Around his neck, his face pale,
Smiling as he flew.