By train, plane, by wings,
I hear the angels sing.
Their featherbell sleeves,
golden flutterbies weave
in mind-blowing confection.
I remember the affection
for long distance kin and kith —
missing links that make me writhe,
and Niagara Falls - its plunging
neckline, of psychedelic rainbows, lunging
catapult of sentiment and mist.
The kiss of sunflowers on smiling lips,
cruising excursions, explorations then kips.
The reward of sleep in the rocking cabin -
the deep with its sonorous spin.
Let the feathers fly! In travel, they win
and at last I’ll be calm of Hesperus dreams,
those dreams that come apart at the seams.
I hold tightly to sleeves, that cure of Spring,
a blizzard of lucid color that true living brings.
Couplets - most with rhymes