None, but her book

He flew up and above the clouds,

Rifting through the warm summer air,

Drifting and Gliding like a bird flying up in the sky,

Farther and farther, reaching for the clouds,

Getting lost with the wind, above

the mountains proudly lined,

The trees ruffling lush green leaves,

Trickling water rushing past,

Yet, the sounds failing to reach,

That high in the sky..


Closing the book,

She took it in.

The wind, the clouds,

The mountains, the rivers.

Flying a Cessna was always a dream,

A dream, too far to reach,

Looming above the clouds to catch,

Yet fulfilled by none other than,

the old-veined pages of her favorite book.