Planes

The sky was painted

Like stained glass

As I sat in the backseat

Of my father’s car

I watched my darkened surroundings

Gradually brighten and reveal

The familiar landscape

On my drive to day care

And as we passed the aircraft carrier

My father pointed and asked me

How many helicopters and planes I thought were in the yard

And I would smile and take a guess

And my father would chuckle

Waiting until we reached the other side

To tell me if I was right

I was never right

But he smiled anyway

I’d give anything to count the planes

With him again.

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