Airplane

(To My Pilot)

By FRANKIE IPSEN May 10, 2022

Soaring above the clouds,

dancing in the sky with the sun in my face,

outracing the clouds,

with nowhere to be.

Where should I go?

Anywhere I go,

an adventure shall await.

If not for the sun in the sky

with its bed of clouds,

I could fall but not yet touch the ground.

What am I chasing?

As I am gliding,

the wind is flowing through my wings.

The bright white sky in my front window,

all I can see in my rearview mirror is time.

What is that bright white sky?

Faster and faster, I glide,

hiding from what is below.

Solid ground is what I remember before my flight.

So long ago it seems like.

What is it that I am hiding from?

For the sky is open and clear,

like a highway in the night.

No highway rules,

just the rules of the sky.