A Collection of Poems

043: To An Airplane

This poem is the closest to my heart, and whenever I read it, I can't help feeling lonely, and I sigh whenever he crosses my mind. I'll tell why (and for this poem, I'll be very open about it.) He is a friend of mine, not equal in importance compared to the others, but still very close, and we used to talk a lot, and we make fun of each other a lot, and we become jerks a lot, and we laugh almost everytime. He has a lot of tricks up his sleeve, and he's got a crush on one of the dumbest and smartest girls in our class, which spells moody. He smiles a lot, and lets everyone smell his breath (pretty awful) and he has this thumb with the shortest and widest nail I've ever seen. Anyway, we never had the chance to talk serious matter, but the last words that stuck in my phone (still saved) were the ones that make my heart swell with missing him. I wish we had some time to talk more often when we had the chance. He's always been my perfect candidate for "Bestfriend of My Life," a social pageant-game I made up in my mind, before the other one came and turned my life 140 degrees. Try reading ''Thirteen Reasons Why" by Jay Asher (thanks, Donalyn (she's a friend)). This is what it feels like. You can't get the things we used to do because the person is dead, and in this case, far away. I miss this person, a lot, and I can't tell you how much longer

XLIII

TO AN AIRPLANE

A star to bring

To brighten up the sky

And to cast the moonlight shine

To reveal the hidden dream

And to search for future's cause

In memory of friendship,

And to all the things we leave

For a reason

A star to guide

To see the sunlight rise

And to clear the clouds away

To introduce new worlds

And to show the way of fate

In memory of happiness,

And to all the things we leave

For a reason

A star to change

To breathe the foreign air

And to adjust the mind and eye

To sense the dawn of cold

And to make new dimensions

In memory of love,

And to all the things we leave

For a reason

A star to reminisce

To watch the book unfold

And to turn its pages back

To burn the candlelight

And to glow tiny embers

In memory of life,

And to all the things we leave

For a reason

To all the things

We leave

We keep

We let go

We hold on

We sacrifice

We take

We lost

We found

We reject

We accept

We miss

We deserve

We forget

We remember

And we truly love

For an imperfectly perfect reason