Home » Uncategorized » Flying Machine

Flying Machine

I soar above the earth
In my tiny flying machine.
Made of gas and metal
And a heck of a lot of dreams.

Can this be so? Can this be real?
As we fly up in the sky?
Abe Lincoln never would have seen this.
Why, oh, why, do I?

Am I a privileged member
Of a world so advanced?
Am I a welcome member
Who is given a wondrous chance?

I look down and I look up,
A different world I see.
How do we stay up here?
My flying machine and me?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s