Flight 109
It was a paper aeroplane
That floated down
The landing was hard, considering
A crumpled nose
And the boy who throws
Comes running down
Considering
A quick repair?
Then up the stairs
We’ll make the next flight bolder
My crumpled nosed fighter jet
And I’m a crumpled soldier
The room looks awful dark today
The walls no longer shining
The shelves are packed with blinking lights
Without the silver lining
The little boy comes charging in
Eyes ablaze and smiling
First the jet and then I bet
The wings will need re-styling
But I feel awful cold today
Can’t seem to stop the shivering
I’ll fly my plane
To keep me sane
The little boy was withering
Up we get, no time to fret
This is your captain speaking
Flight 109 to depart on time
Just needs the engines tweaking
An aeroplane comes floating down
Its wings a work of art
A little trooper, he was
With a wrinkled face
And a smile to break your heart
Comments
Well written poetry, as usual, Ben – and so evocative. When my grandson was 4, he came running up to me saying, “Grandma, grandma – guess what – I can fly!” We had a hard time keeping him off the roof for a while. Most boys have that urge and it must mean something evolutionary, I think.
Thanks nancy :) and I know what you mean about your grandson! I think we all have the urge to fly.. no matter what age we are..
– Ben Ruskin