I find it hard to believe that it was one year ago when I wrote the following poem and posted it on my blog, February 18, 2012. At the time, it was Untitled, but later I named it "Daddy's Girl."
I'd been seeing prop planes everywhere I went, whether walking or driving, and that particular afternoon the words just came to me. I sat at my laptop and this is what I wrote:
Daddy's Girl
I strolled along the
pavement,
the sound of quiet surrounding me
like a quilt. The stillness was deafening
until I heard the engine of a prop plane
flying overhead. Pausing and shading my eyes,
I squint and watch it putter across
the powder blue sky.
Memories flood my soul,
immediately tugging my mouth
into a wide grin.
the sound of quiet surrounding me
like a quilt. The stillness was deafening
until I heard the engine of a prop plane
flying overhead. Pausing and shading my eyes,
I squint and watch it putter across
the powder blue sky.
Memories flood my soul,
immediately tugging my mouth
into a wide grin.
The next day I walk
the
same path. A distant cardinal chirps,
most likely believing it's already spring.
Why shouldn't he?
These past few days have been nothing
but glorious.
Just the calendar page declares
it's only early February.
I turn, searching for his brilliant crimson color
among the vast bare branches
but my eyes cannot find him.
same path. A distant cardinal chirps,
most likely believing it's already spring.
Why shouldn't he?
These past few days have been nothing
but glorious.
Just the calendar page declares
it's only early February.
I turn, searching for his brilliant crimson color
among the vast bare branches
but my eyes cannot find him.
I notice the sky is full
of vapor trails.
Those wispy, cloud-like streaks also
carry memories for the child within me.
Those wispy, cloud-like streaks also
carry memories for the child within me.
I think back. All those
years ago.
The newness of jet
airplanes and the
thundering explosions of
sonic booms.
My dad explaining the
magic & mystery.
I close my eyes, and for a moment
I'm standing motionless in my front yard again.
Staring up, marveling at the sight above,
taking it all in and thinking as profoundly as
a five-year-old possibly can.
I close my eyes, and for a moment
I'm standing motionless in my front yard again.
Staring up, marveling at the sight above,
taking it all in and thinking as profoundly as
a five-year-old possibly can.
Blinking, I hesitate for
a moment, then
become aware of my
present surroundings.
I begin my walk back
home.
Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow
Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow
I'll return to the same
path,
thinking back and I'll
reminisce once more.
Sentimental journeys.
Always bittersweet.
thinking back and I'll
reminisce once more.
Sentimental journeys.
Always bittersweet.
©2012 Becky Povich
Although I'm amazed that I wrote poetry, what's even more amazing is that it was a breakthrough day. From then on, I began to write more often, felt more confident, and had very little writer's block.
If you're not familiar with my love of prop planes, the following post will help.
http://beckypovich.blogspot.com/2012/02/nostalgic-sundays_19.html
* Welcome to my newest follower Pat. I hope you'll stop by often and always enjoy what you read and see! *
"I don't believe that life is supposed to make you feel good, or make you feel miserable either. Life is just supposed to make you feel." -- Gloria Naylor
