Flight came so easily <br />when I was a boy of seven. <br /> <br />I'd hover over sidewalks, cars and lawns <br />gliding on a sea of azure air <br />above my friends at play <br />and Mom and Pop talking on the porch. <br /> <br />I'd circle over McKinley School (my school) <br />where the recess bell is ringing <br />and the creek by the edge of the woods <br />where I found the railroad flare <br />(my creek, my woods) . <br /> <br />Flight came ever so easily <br />when I was seven (or was it eight?) <br />when the sky was autumn blue <br />and the world below was kind and true. <br /> <br />But in time, science grounded me, <br />said it was just a dream. <br />After all a boy can't just up <br />and repeal the law of gravity, can he? <br /> <br />Why yes, of course he can: <br />it comes so easy <br />when you're seven or eight <br />and the skies are right for flying.<br /><br />Robert Charles Howard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-time-for-flying/
