Icarus Changes Hobbies Poem by Glenn Bagshaw

One boy found wings had much downside.
All joy's flung fibs. All fliers lied.
Slick, oozing wax job in the spring
slipped out why blues in bluebirds sing.
So note his lark- boy sailed a kite
to cascade frenzy into sight;
still perils shrouded Grecian sky-
Bedazzled, day-zed, blind in sun's eye,
he blinked while squealing, good-bye-wheel
slammed dead his engined sense of feel;
crushed him car-quick. No one might mark
how crashed in night, then parked in dark,
boy fell like failing arc of kite,
down dead-end drives; sans high way's light.
Now wail of raving breeze seems screams-
sounds on palled ground; pounds fallen dreams