I Would Wait a Million Years

I wonder sometimes the sky. Outside of the window, I can see pegasi soaring through the air, high above us ground-based ponies, without a care in the world. I imagine flying through that vast, blue emptiness, flying higher and higher until the clouds blend into the ground below and the blue begins to turn into black and the stars reveal themselves to me.

But then, I blink, and I’m on the crowded ground, forever limited by my own four hooves and my horn. I glance behind me, at my back, and I see my smooth, wingless coat and I look back up at the sky. I clench my jaw and I jump, hoping that, maybe, I might just hover into the heavens with you.

But I don’t. I can’t.

You are a child of the sky. A mare forever unrestricted by the limitations of gravity and petty physics, for wherever there is room, you can fly there.

I only hope that you fly back to me soon.