I wrote this poem seven years ago. Bon Throwback Thursday.
When he finally lands,
the odds are that she’ll be waiting for him by the riverside.
He’ll tell marvelous tales
of the sweet air up there, of racing with skylarks and ravens,
that near-miss with the eagle…
She’ll tell him that Billy lost his tooth, and that Sally started walking.
He’ll smile and ask if they remember him and she’ll lie and say that
She’ll cry when he says that he has to go again,
(“I thought you’d stay longer this time”)
and he’ll placate her with promises that they both know
will fly away faster than he can, never to be seen or heard of
Up, up, up, he’ll go, the Man who makes the sky that much
more unique, as they all like to say.
She’ll continue by the riverside,
too morose and too teary-eyed
to realize what he hopes she never will,
that she’s always had
wings of her own.