[image from google dot com]
Many days, it's about the shape of leaves
For the flowers drop, rain-beaten,
And the moon, given to constrictions,
Might be somewhat swollen, still,
Yet not fully.
Then, there are those days,
Light as cotton candy, in cotton candy hues;
Soft pale pinks, blues and warm frothy whites,
Nourishment from the Gods.
The giant bird of steel and drones,
Lands on the runway,
You board, since your ticket is valid;
Your passport bears the stamp of traveller,
And reeks of reality.
Sorted near the window,
You look, only longingly,
Still, those clouds you love so much,
Diaphanous as dreams, are,
Yet far away.
WINGING IT © gillena cox 2016
Susan prompting today also reminds us that today December 7th is International Civil Aviation Day