Flying

12/31/1969 - 19:00

Lily Forsman

Undergraduate/Spanish Education

I know what it feels like to fly.

You and I are flying down the highway out into the countryside. But it’s not the speed that lifts me up. It’s not even the purr of the pickup, or the wind in your hair, or the laughs that are snatched so quickly by the wind.

It’s your eyes, so close to mine; the sound of our beating hearts. It’s the glittering stars and the feel of your hand around mine, too warm for a dream.

You gently squeeze my hand one last time, pull the plug, and whisper:

I love you.



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