Over the Trees Never was an R.A.F. pilot - out of two hundred, made the last seven. Held your breath the requisite minute, disappointed in terms of aggression. Back from Fratton Model Shop with your kit, your miniature pots of paint, set to work in the makeshift hangar, slowly assembled the balsa frame. Four months later, stood by the river, take-off, eyes full of hope and glee. Drifted beyond the scope of radar, vanishing gracefully over the trees. Underwhelmed for a puzzled moment. Started to dream of a task renewed. Anecdotes over Sunday dinner, told them you didn't crash, you flew.
They Sang for Me
I lived alone the longest while.
I spread my wings, I sometimes smiled.
Though thermals bore me on my way,
the wind complained as if to say
‘There must be something more.’
I screeched and squawked to birds unknown.
For half a day, I must have flown
till limbs seemed spent and voice had cracked.
Then, on the verge of turning back,
I heard the sweetest score.
A distant chorus swelled and stirred,
the smallest speck became a bird.
In loose array, she led the skein.
They sang for me and thus became
one greater than before.
The kite a Christmas gift,
functional but swift.
I’ve lazily awaited such a day.
My dad the flying nut;
he sends her up,
the reel is sent my way.
The line extended tight;
the wind is mad –
it wants the kite
this doesn’t feel like fun.
can I be free?
And must I always end what I’ve begun?
I dream of letting go.
and down below,
I envy its ascent above the roofs.
Soon, I’m waking up.
My dad takes over,
I’m in luck.
The wind and I decide to call a truce.
Tethered was first published in Driech 4 Season 2, March 2021
Lawrence Moore has been writing poems – some silly, some serious – since childhood. He lives in Portsmouth, England with his husband Matt and nine mostly well behaved cats. He has poetry published at, among others, Dreich, Pink Plastic House, Fevers of the Mind, Quince Magazine and Green Ink Poetry. @LawrenceMooreUK