THE FIRST TIME I FLEW

The first time I flew,
I was seated on the window side.
Ground less and dust less,
It was almost like a bus ride.
I peeped out, I saw clouds floating.
As white and irregular as ever,
But closer, and this time
I was the one watching over.

Like in a boat in the middle of a sea,
It was all so still, although we did fly,
Blue up and blue beneath,
Nobody could tell where was the sky.
It all looked so unreal, an act.
Like a stage set for a fairy tale.
And through the window, from my eyes,
I was sipping it like an ale.

I can see my wings, but I can't feel them,
I pass through clouds, but can't touch the same.
Is this really flying,
Or just a pretence in its name?

BEING A LONER

Being a loner, makes me stronger.
I have forgotten yesterday,
And everyday is a New Day!
I see someone, someone better,
I tend to compete for the stature.
I see someone whom I've bettered, and
The evanescent motivation is shattered.
But now it's just me.
In the shiny shelves of the library,
In the wiggling water of the sea
Under the azure sky and no passers by,
I see no one, but me.
Now to better whom I see,
I became a loner, you see.