Alive and kicking.

Nostalgia.
What a thing to hold in the mind.
No shame in admitting it, when
You put your wings on, yes,
They may be a little snugger fitting.

Yet, when you draw your feet up
From this green bound firmament
You still feel it.

Alive and kicking. You skate, and thrust
Upward to that pitiless disk,
Sunglasses on, like paddy the Greek,
You learn the steep blue,

You love it, a fledgling anew, and climb
Climb to that place you love,
Meeting with the chimes of the clock
You no dove – will not be knocked

From your perch, you will ascend
Repeat, flap, comprehend,
That a certain altitude will be be met
And hence in haste, you and the ground,
Shall find permanence.

And in that solace, at least you found
Your limits.