My First Flight

I’ve always enjoyed flying. My first flight was when I was 2. My first commercial flight was when I as 4 to go visit my dad. When I was 19 I got my pilot license. I’ve been hooked on flying since I was 4. I tried to build airplanes out of scrap, but they never flew. This poem is a homage to my first attempt of flying off the roof.

My First Flight

The blood dribbled
down my arm and to the elbow,
dripping and falling
making a pool on the sidewalk.

The plan was simple and easy.
Take the plane off the roof
and fly,
flying over the roof tops and mountains.
The goal was in sight,
the wood structure 
bolted steadfast to the skateboard.

The broken pieces
lain all over the sidewalk-
the unforgiving solid force.
The blood dripped-
from my arm
from my knees
from my head
nothing serious, just scrapes.

And I was grounded-for now.
Next time they will line up
overcome with awe and disbelief
and they will exclaim
WOW!