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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
© Johnmichael Simon
2913
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