The Bittersweet Longing

Sometimes
for no reason at all
or at least for reasons that I can't understand
(something about something deep in my psyche
and rainbows ends and huckleberry friends)
I like to pretend I'm a child again
Mentally I throw my arms up over my head
and say
I'm a nightingale
or a mockingbird
or an angel in disguise
Something with wings
and a lovely singing voice
Those two things are the only qualifications for the being I wish to be

If I could fly, I would be happy
If I could sing, I would bring happiness to others
Have you ever heard a mockingbird sing and not had your spirits lifted?
I close my eyes
I am something better than myself
more beautiful
more loved
giving and caring, singing and soaring
Yet just the fact that I want that
Just the fact that I set my sights on heaven
Doesn't that mean something ... good?