There once lived a shoemaker, humble and neat.

Each day he made shoes, for needy feet.

Each day he reached for the leather and glue.

Each day he made shoes and nothing was new.

 

A fairy breezed in, magnificent and bright.

She had golden wings that made their own light,

She had this thing, this feature, this mark.

But she had no feet…  and the difference was stark.

 

She had stubs that stopped where feet otherwise go,

No heels, no arches, no soles, not one toe.

She asked the cobbler to make her some boots,

So she could feign feet and the same attribute.

 

So the cobbler reached for the leather and glue.

He made the same boots that he already knew.

Like everyone else now, she matched their stride.

She stepped on the sidewalks with glee and false pride.

 

She no longer flew and her wings forgot flight.

They no longer shone with their natural light,.

She could no longer soar high to go up and see

the private MAGIC AND MIRACLES of her destiny.

 

She stayed in the fog, way down below

where the people with feet had no choice but to go.

Looking down, she thought and she saw her false feet.

She saw her limp wings and was tired and beat.

 

She had an idea – a whimsy, a spark.

She went to the cobbler to make her true mark.

She asked the cobbler to make her some wings.

He did and they were marvelous things.

 

So now instead of boots and the mirage to conform

She has two sets of wings, very much from the norm…

See, she put more wings where before she tried boots.

She ACCENTED HER GIFTS, her God-given loot.

 

She is the ONLY ONE with wings and the freedom to plan,

So she tries springs, or jets, as with no feet- SHE CAN!

Stubs are her fate, her purpose, her chance

to shine her TRUE LIGHT, and dance her own dance.

 

 

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