The boy who could’ve flown

He used to be as bright as he was young,
Wanted to reach the sun with his wings yet unformed.
Once the time comes he always thought,
Then came time without a sound.
When it came he said he wasn’t enough,
That he couldn’t be a song but just a cog.
All the while his wings took form,
Made of gold and covered in flower.
How he could’ve flown he’ll never know,
Maybe that’s why he still seeks his song.
The boy who could’ve flown,
 But never felt his wings to take off.