Between the Branches

Between the branches,
both gnarled and new,
I glimpse the sky
of azure blue
and, though I stand
beneath the shade,
longingly stare
beyond the leaves of jade,
secretly wishing Daedalus
would trade his son
so it’s I flying to the sky
and gleefully singed by the sun.

Posted in response to the Daily Prompt: Freudian Flips
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