1929 -Poem #100

For my father who never flew; but his children did.

I saw “Wings” with my father
when I was young; Best Picture of ‘29
like him, splendidly silent
in a world of black and white

He was 12 in ‘29;
anointed was he
with Caesar’s falling sickness
which would take away his dream

yet on the day he heard the wind,
the engine’s roar he knew was coming,
from sickbed to outside he ran, looking up
standing in the shadow

mouth agape in silent awe
as the great Graf Zeppelin
serenely passed directly over him;
knowing his world could never be the same.

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