i wrote this while the tv was showing old black and white film reels of a procession of unmarried italian girls with lilies.
she asked: 'why can't i fly?'
he replied: 'you should not.'
she asked: 'but i have wings, don't i?'
he replied: 'yes, but they are rendered useless right now for your protection, my dear.'
she asked: 'but it hurts, when are my wings due to be unclipped?'
he replied: 'patience, patience. you see, if you fly too high, the fall would be too much a distance to survive; if you fly too fast, you would tire yourself too soon, cough and dehydrate, pant and suffocate; if you fly too low, you would be prone to crash inadvertently against an obstacle; if you fly too slow, you would be an easy prey for others and hunt you down. do you understand, child?'
she cried: 'yes, i do. but i long to flutter my wings and spread them out under the sun!'
he laughed: 'darling, you stay here out of harm's way.'