"i'm flying away..."--moony
leonardo's vision flowered
into a feat in aerotechnology.
what gives?
the moonshine waxes more nostalgia,
the starry heavens are unfathomed poetry.
till you came,
announcing the arrival of
a whole new way of seeing
that glider in the air.
immediately,
the airplane rivals the dove in beauty,
its trail forms a watercolored rainbow,
its supersonic a wellspring of melody.
if you must go,
your departure shouldn't count
as a reason to grow sad,
for an airplane soon hovers
in these majestic skies
and when it does,
i whisper,"you're flying,"
wishing somewhere someone responds
"you're flying, too."
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