Fying Paper Airplanes - Poem by Roxanne Dubarry
Flying Paper Airplanes.
Soaring, floating in the air,
or dive bombing turn corners.
Poppy's grandsons Levi
and Isaiah did not care.
You see Poppy made paper airplanes
in order for his two young grandsons,
to have some fun.
They were running around and
playing having a grand old time.
As for me, I kept checking my
cell phone and keeping track
Poppy's grandson Isaiah
is a number cruncher,
he likes playing Japanse
puzzle games a little.
hard to explain. With
his grandma, but
that puzzle book I never
Levi, was Poppy's more attactive
grandson who liked to have some
paper airplane flying fun time.
All the time I was keeping track of time.
Levi liked to climb and play hide and seek
with Poppy and yours truly.
Poppy and grandma were busy waiting for
the rest of their North Dakota family.
To me it was very plan, they were
waiting for the Eastbound Amtrack train.
As for me, I was waiting for transportation
from my local city Everett Transit bus.
I was the only one, there was not two of us.
The rest of their family arrived on time,
they were caught in traffic.
They were complete strangers to me,
and no local Everett's friends of mine.
It came time for Sage, Isaiah, Levi and Gideon
to catch the train with the rest of their family.
And though I really don't know when I would really
like to see them again.
To them Everett was a busy big city filled with complete
strangers, nobody seemed to even know.
People were in a hurry running around
with places to go.
How could I live this way, Poppy wanted to know.
This is the only life I have ever known.
(I did not tell him I have known less
Would I like to go to North Dakota where the
winters got to be 16 degrees below zero?
No I don't want to, I would be too cold.
Love As Always,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
aka Roxy54/October Country
Poet's Notes about The Poem
waiting for a local ride from our Everett Para Transit bus. Poppy and grandma were waiting to be reunited with the remainder of their family. They were caught in the Everett's traffic jam.
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