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| credit: Adam Rutter |
The sky above – contrails
draw straight lines with chalk
Leaving deep scratches
Higher up, airlines
make the skies talk
Contrails, illuminated
by the sun, makes the planes speak
I wake, to hear those thin white lines screech
Many crisscross like
rails
Flying way to some
faraway beach seems out of reach
Contrails fill the
ocean blue skies with curtains
Whatever happened to
those beautiful white sails?
2 comments:
An original poem, Adam; you chose an interesting subject to write about. A very thoughtful, imaginative piece.
Alex
Yes, I like that a sight we might pass off inspired you to write 🙂
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