Little Mandy dragged her parents’ plastic purple broom out of the garage.

Today was the day

she was going to fly.

She tucked a still sticky bubbles container

full of flight potion up her jacket sleeve.

She poured the potion,

dissolved bath salts and grass,

over the broom,

bristles to handle.

Crisp autumn leaves

blew down the street

as she mounted the broom.

She just had to believe and try hard enough.

No neighbors were out to witness it,

but after a few minutes of rocking onto her tip toes

and jumping around,

she could swear she actually hovered a minute.

 

Teenage Mandy loved Halloween.

She went as a witch every year,

but this year she wanted to be pretty.

She wanted to be a fairy.

She bought sparkly make-up,

blue wings,

and a short, sequined gown.

Of course, her costume wasn’t complete without a bag of pixie dust.

She sprinkled some over her blonde hair before her party,

and though it was silly, part of her believed that it would make her fly.

Enough of her believed.

At the stroke of midnight, he kissed her

and damn if her heart didn’t soar.

 

Adult Mandy bought candy.

She’d just moved out

and saved up to splurge on decorations for her favorite holiday.

After setting everything up, she laid down on her living room rug,

an ornately designed blue and gold one that she loved.

Though she didn’t think she’d be flying over the New York skyline on it,

she believed it would take her places,

that it would help her fly,

that it would make anywhere home.

And despite her fear,

she knew that she was doing the right thing.

***

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Poetry

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