Feet high

Alone I soared,

Alone in the sky,

Alone I sailed,

When reaching new heights,

New forces unveiled,

The icy wind's bite.

On the radio I hailed,

Only static I heard,

No one knows the terror,

Of being a lone bird.

For hours I flew,

On my Grob 103,

Trying to get home,

Without hitting a tree.

I looked for the runway,

No airport did I see,

Only mountains and farms,

Only clouds, only me.

I was 14 years old,

And little did I know,

This was the day,

I am a child no more.

Using only my head,

With the sky as my map,

I plotted for home,

Where I needed a nap.

Slowly I drifted,

My first solo flight,

To the edge of the airspace,

To the edge of the night.

From takeoff to landing,

From mountain to hay,

Alone had I been,

Alone and afraid.

No more would I live,

As a child or babe,

Grown from this flight,

And Alone on this day.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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