The Airplane











There is a plane that’s parked upstairs
Within my attic space
It once sat in my father’s house
That used to be its place

But as with men, my father passed
And left for me a gift
It’s just a plane, a model one
Though small, gives me a lift

To see it there, parked all alone
Fills my heart with things gone by
That plane all wrapped in memories
I wish again could fly

But memories don’t come again
They’re just a place of mind
I like to touch them when I can
But just the happy kind

Sometimes I walk within my mind
Up to my attic space
And there I sit with memories
In my happy place


©November 4, 2015


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