Flying

When I was very little

before I knew how to think

 

about the big questions

 

I watched buzzing airplanes

on their way across the sky

plowing away into cloud,

nothing to hold them up

 

lying in grass weaving a daisy necklace

watching birds and insects

 

Some nights I had flying dreams

you know those don’t you?
the way you just do that magic thing

that makes you rise, touch the ceiling,

sail out over trees and houses,

the confidence you can lift off

whenever to wherever

 

Up there we understood the secret

without ever a think or wonder,

dreams were real – and all the rest

a bunch of comic strip sketches

stuck there beside their matchbox houses

looking up at us

as we went buzzing effortless

across the sun

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© Johnmichael Simon

2913

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