Cascading power through my limbs,
tearing at the air with thunder.
Raising high, the banter of strength
streams from two sides of the wind.
The feminine mystique of my legs,
the way their muscles dance,
sheer will alone makes me kick
a hole into the sky.
Meant to run.
Meant to fly.
Sleek arms protect my life.
Shoulders that carry the world,
the burden of it makes me smile.
Smooth and sculpted,
hard, yet surprisingly soft,
they wish to obtain me, like a toy.
Stares from their eyes
shoot to the center,
where I stand defiant, and secretly pleased.
I was made to run.
I was made to fly.
Catch me if you can.
