Up up in the sky.
Puppy lands with a sigh
Proud and perky and why aren’t
Don’t you understand how he flies, puppy dog and the child?
Or maybe you’re just jealous; you’re waiting while he
Goes away so that you get to try.
Flying’s not magic, he tells you, sweet son, it’s just fun
Lifting wings to the sky as the dream’s just begun with
Imagined white feathers adorning your long weary arms
—goose-down armor the son says dear Mom—Ever raising you higher
See Mama now, see how we fly.
Puppy dog flies.
Written for ReadWritePoem #27 - acrostic