Our Very Own House On An Airplane

A poem that flies

I’m building a house on an airplane, then flying to you, when I can.

I’m building our house on this airplane, so deep space can see us, and give us a hand -

Dreaming high flight on an airplane, cleaning our wings to reflect the sun.

Please help me build a strong house on your airplane, the smell of you, the lift of your wings.

Ten thousand clouds will love us above our own airplane. The birds will all sing with us when those clouds do.

We’ll fly past the night above this fast airplane, towards our own morning, beyond us and new.

We’ll kiss a new dawn, atop our own airplane. The clouds will laugh unexpectedly. We surprised them, it’s true. They’ll look straight at us and help us, because that kind of kiss goes such a long way.

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Just by accident, I heard Townes Van Zandt’s hauntingly beautiful song, Heavenly Houseboat Blues, for the 1st time only yesterday. When you read this poem, just read it to his tune, (though I did take a few acoustic liberties.)

© “John” Lesly Levin 2020