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Spare change was rare at our house when I was a lad,
But you could bet on it, when I got a quarter from my Dad,
I didn't blow it on mundane things like a baseball or a mitt!
I flew to the local Five and Dime to buy a model airplane kit!

The store shelves were piled high with model planes galore!
Spitfires, Hurricanes, Mustangs, Thunderbolts and many more!
The man at the counter patiently waited 'til I made my selection.
I needed the perfect specimen to add to my vast collection!

I set up my shop in the seclusion of our cozy attic,
Sanding, painting, gluing and poring over the schematic.
In isolation if things went awry, I could utter a cuss word or two,
Without Mom yelling, "Son, I don't know what's to become of you!"

From the ceiling of my room hung dozens of the things,
Each floating aloft supported by delicate gossamer wings!
How oft I'd lie abed dreaming of flight, sensing total elation,
Freed from earthly bonds, soaring above the beauty of Creation!

Assembling balsa wood planes required a certain degree of skill.
Nowadays, they're hard to find and cost a twenty-dollar bill!
The plastic models of today are realistic but will never compare,
To building your very own creation and releasing it in the air!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Entry for Frank H.'s "A Childhood Memory" Contest

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