Decision To Fly
It has been a long time.
Summer of sixty-nine.
Dad, Uncle Don, and I
Their decision to fly.
Wires, you control type.
I ran and walked inside.
For Pepsi cold as ice.
Was there under five.
Had just arrived.
He hit a high-tension line.
The mega-volt kind.
The arcs flashed, pure white.
Blinding light, ten feet high.
As we knelt by his side
tears welled, began to cry.
It has been a long time.
My Dad survived.
Etched forever in mind.
Truth is stranger than Fiction.
Copyright © R J. Elless | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment