Recently, I was flying my airplane on a business trip. It was one of those smooth wonderful days when you put it on autopilot and just sit and behold a world that one never entirely gets used to.

I sat looking at my airplane – and fell in love again. I’ve owned her for nearly 16 years. I got to thinking of all the changes since she flew into my life back on a cool November day in 1998. Many of the changes are because of or centered around her.

I bit moved, I pulled out a yellow pad and penned the rough form of this poem. It’s written as she carried me along – as she often does.

I call this:

Her Soul is Her Own!

Some see this plane
As mere machine
In metal form
A lifeless thing
Just rubber wheel
And alum wing

But as she sweeps
Me through the sky
That purring sound
And windy cry
I feel her soul
And share her high

For since that day.
When she flew in.
I knew this craft
Would be a friend
Portending change;
A longing’s end.

A bit of work
Still lay ahead
Her scratchy white
And faded red
But joy I felt
And tear I shed

For no device
Would change me so
Renew my life
Or let me grow
Or coddle me
Through to and fro

She changed a path
Enriched a life
New home for her
And lovely wife
No greater deal
At any price.

Now patchy white’s
A creamy pure
Her scratchy red
Defines grandeur
She proudly shows
Her manicure

Does she not live?
How could this be?
Her gentle grasp
To set me free
To Soar me high
To cradle me

I know she lives!
She hums, she flies!
Aloft, we sail.
Through gentle skies
We witness worlds 
From high on high

New view of  life
To me she’s shown
The times we’ve shared
The Highs we’ve known 
She takes me out
And brings me home.

There’s magic there
It’s her’s alone
An Essence that
No One can own
This lady’s mine.
Her soul’s her own

She may be mine!

Her Soul …..Is her Own!

by Ken Risley, June 5th, 2014