Poetry Friday: Airplane


You give me the feeling

of when I was little, playing the airplane game
Where someone would hold you by your hands
and you would lay across their knees.
You would pretend to be an airplane,
and then they would pretend to crash.
You would beg for them to do it again.

I’m your airplane.
You are what keeps me in the air,
you hold me by the hands
and you crash me and pick me up over and over again.
But one of these days,
you won’t be there to hold me up,
and you will get bored of playing.
But until then,
I’m the highest airplane in the sky.

      by: Ashlyn Dodd