It was raining today.

And on the flattened grass rested a fallen piece of the sky.

It was a nice piece. it was smooth, and the grayish clouds swished around in it.

I didn't dare to pick it up, because although it was smooth and uninterrupted, it looked rather fragile.

I bent to peer at it, and was pleasantly surprised when I saw my reflection.

But as I thought about it, it made sense.

My shadow follow me everywhere, and can stretch up walls. So why can't my reflection soar without me knowing?

Heck, maybe our reflections are what make some of the sky dark.

How lucky my reflection is, swishing in-between fluffs of clouds, swerving in and out of mazes of snowflakes and rainbows.

Does it move without me? Not like my shadow, who follows my heels?

Well, It must. The reflection is a reflection of me. And I would soar, breaking free of whatever others do.