Flying and Mr. Sky

I sat in my yard and gazed up and up. 

I saw a fly fly by and wondered why,

can't I fly?

So I asked Mr. Sky how I could reach so high.

he asked "why?" back.

My plan of attack was to back with reasons

and songs and seasons why the Sky Guy should let me fly. 

My outlying outline is sublime and so taking his time

to chime my alpine sized prized as I realized it ties 

to planetary peace and said, "please," 

until he listened to my glistening

gossip before I lost it.

"Here's my plan," I said even quicker. 

If my zipper was undone, 

well that's no fun,

so I'll fix it 

and mix its meaning

and zip up flying.

The loud clouds will clap

and gleam their teeth white across the sky.

"A new fly," they'll think and so'll Think I!

I wouldn't be the only one it seems,

that'll think flying would be keen

and soon lots of fly guys

and girls would be hurled

over the world and we'll twirl

in great formations 

and sanction relations against retaliations

and solve the world pieces 

with peace treaties

and chocolate treats

(some sugar free in case they are diabetically)

and diabolically save the planet!

Grant it the granite was stubborn

but earth clods moved their bods

to help prod granite to grant its cooperation.

Then those still born are happier 

under the peace brought about fly guys

and girls who bring pearls 

of perception to flies flying flung 

and sing songs sung to happy

zippers who zipped up the world

and curled their lips into while lasting smiles

and, considering all the lasting biles 

fighting the whiles of people's will, 

that will be a great skill.

But with flight in sight

all wrongs would right

and we would fight blight

until there were no more nights.

And that Mr. Sky,

unless you need more reasons why,

is why you 

should let me 

fly.