Ian Hochberg Copyright 8/19/12
This is a grey Sunday
I feel still and sad.
Outside my home I hear motors getting louder
And look up to see your bomber fly overhead.
The one you flew in the war.
I start to cry and want you to come back.
Do you remember me?
Did you fly here to pass a message?
Many may have seen you fly today.
But only I am your son
Who wants you to stay and not fly away. Again