On A Westbound Plane With Sinatra In The Middle Seat
Waiting on the runway The minutes get slow, slower than the last five minutes of a schoolday Slower than the first three seconds I spent in your eyes Slow and still Filled with shivers Anticipation Terrifying, exhilarating, painful stretch of minutes Before we rocket down the runway and off into the sky
...Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away...
Oh Frank! If he were here He'd sit way back in the seat One knee up Hat pulled down And say "Kid, flying is just like love: The takeoff and the landing are the pits, But you can't get anywhere if your wheels never leave the ground."
"Thanks" I'd say, "I'll remember that." And I'd think of you, Your beautiful eyes and thin fingers and messy, brownish hair, And I'd soar.
~CRH 2012
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