Flight One Nineteen And Holding.

Flight #119 and holding...


My Dad's

almost eighty now
he's a reflection
though somewhat

faded of me
in some

short years
yet to pass.


Our Mom's

and Dad's

tend to be

a mirror of flesh

one can see a bit

of thier tomorrows

in the grandness

of their parents.


Time flys...

it's true
and we are

all passengers
booked on

one way fares
to various

that's a given.


Plus we all

have reservations

about going

too soon....

or not having

enough money

when we start

planning to go.


But Dad and I
have both earned
frequent flyer miles
out the wazoo.



Together with the

large amount of time's

journeys we've shared,

we've accumulated well

over a hundred years worth.


But we don't dare
trade them in.


Nope...we're saving 'em up
for that one really big trip....


Cause heaven is
a long way off I hear.......


and hell is just a terminal
full of angry people
who've been bumped down to
Standby and sweat.



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