10 years after leaving you alone on Staten Island
you are still
Allowing me the wings that I’ve spouted to
Carry me over your
Old, familiar landscape
Without ever an “I told you so”
“That’s enough altitude.”
“Make a U-turn at the dead end.”
Gracious as you are in your gift of flight, you are equally as
attentive to my detail.
A reticent yet routine visitant to my stunted world view.
A benefactor without intrusion. You allow me to transcend atmospheres.
In my own time.
If there was a way to thank you for your
Benevolent buoyancy, I’d beg of you to surrender that.
I’d do my best to soar
Not too close
Not too far