Whomever finds this open journal,
Let it be known that I'm the small plane
Cutting through the fluff of cloud
Like a silvery knife through the softness of cake
Of whatever flavor one would prefer
And as I glide over the coastal landscape
I pet the small trees through my porthole window
And when I cannot seem to reach
I think of you in the lull
And picture you next to the Texas sunrise
And between The Arizona mountains
And although I'm changing pens,
I won't change my mind because I've found comfort
In the skies of your eyes, although the turbulence shakes
My wings and jets around and no oxygen mask,
No seat belt caution, no safety check will make me feel
As safe as your pillowy arms and it isn't just me,
The propellers hum your song as the wind eclipses
The darkness and the lights disjoint a picture
From my mind and projects it on the crops below.
I take off just to land and it's always you, love.

01/08/2010

Posted on 01/08/2010
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