A Bird of a Certain Age

There are times I want to escape.
To open a window, spread my wings and fly.
I flew once before.
I want to feel nothing above me or below me again.
I want to feel me again.
On the ground I feel the weight of the world pulling me down.
My head feels like a boulder, my shoulders like branches bearing heavy fruit, my legs like old stumps with deep roots and my feet bogged down in mud.
I struggle to break free of the gravity but feel myself sinking deeper into the mire.
I see the sky and wish to fly once more.
I wish to fly.
I wish to be free.I wish for me.