the distant

a white airplane pulls me through
a black midnight heading north
and this is my first time.
I see the silent cities’ lights
floating past my watch
and I know that I am alone.

frozen city is winter gray
with empty streets and quiet fog
and I should not be here.
buildings sleeping smoking steaming
slowly blend and fade away
and then I think of you.

yellow hallways echo footsteps
as I walk and look and find your room
and I realize that I’m scared.
plastic metal paper rubber
surround you in your sterile bed
and I cannot see your eyes.

a blue machine is breathing for you
as I softly grip your fragile hand
and I notice that it’s smaller than mine.
I think to when you would carry me
as I would pretend to fly
and I struggle to remember you now.

another airplane screams in flight
silent windows atmosphere
and I am not the same.
the years the times the could have beens
we should have been together
and I would have been your son.