[*Author's Note: This is the sequel to a book I wrote last year entitled "The Whispering Gallery." If anyone is desperate enough to read the first book, email me at thetravelingmagpie @ gmail. com and I'll send you a PDF copy of The Whispering Gallery, with the stipulation that you have to give me a bit of a critique. :D Enjoy, and as always, any questions, suggestions, or comments are welcome!*]

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When I read Flight, I was impressed by your skill with words, but even more amazing was the yearning underlying—or is it overlaying?—every word. I too have struggled with the sky-sickness and fought the flight-longing.

I am a hopeful romantic,
A helpless fantasist
Just as likely to seek Aladdin’s lamp,
Or a dragons cave,
As a pair of jeans at Wal-Mart
I’m always on the lookout
Hoping for a glimpse
Of the Faraway Land,
The Never Country,
Where all that I imagine
Might be shown for truth
I sometimes get a funny feeling,
Like maybe I’m this close,
But my feet always carry me
Half an inch too far,
Half an inch short
Of the doorway I can’t see
But can feel, tingling in the air