Author: Erik

I wonder how

you found the pancakes that Saturday morning

that special mixture I had made for you

before I had to fly away.

 

Just the two of you left

sharing cream and strawberry jam and maybe

a breakfast story as the sun tapped gently against

the kitchen windows

 

– the one about a girl that had just learned

how to skip,

a mother searching for a cure for growing up

and a father who could taste the jam and cream

at 17,000 feet.

 

The velvet floor of the far away land,

complete with four o’clock shadow,

gives a nod to the day that’s been

and leads the aircraft along the aether road.

All the way

to our home on the hill.