Wings poem

When I'm with you I can fly,
when I'm with you, I sit in the sky
I can write, I can see the way,
you've given me my light, the pen in my hand,
the ink to pour, the words to say
you've taken me into the promised land
I was broken, I was bruised, I had lost my light,
I tossed and turned, sleepless at night
nothing but empty pages and drifting feathers
I couldn't write, I tried and tried, but I couldn't write
now when I'm with you I can fly.

One thing in my life I crave, one thing that was taken away
I grew them once at twelve years old,
behind my bedroom door, through the summer, in the cold
I tended them gently, I spread them wide,
but puppet strings pulled me down, I didn't realise
forgotten, left behind, reality ripping them away
but they've been rebuilt, they're here to stay
I don't need trinkets or fancy things
Being with you, you've given me wings

How could I write and fly off with Grace
when my wings were torn down, like shreds of stained lace
how could I fight with Jim at my side,
when soliders came marching my heart would duck and hide
I dropped my sword a while ago, my feet slammed hard into the ground
but a piece of me was in that key you found
wrapped up in the inspiration you bring
how can I explain you've given me back my wings.