Day 27. When I Was Five

Sunday morning, Dad would take me flying Just the two of us, in his tiny plane

His plane was just right for the two us
Tilting in the wind, we flew over green fields

The fields slid green and ripe beneath us As we skimmed the grass and landed fast

We landed near a hangar, open to the gass
filled with long tables and the smell of pancakes

Tables groaned under mounds of pancakes In the hangar where pilots flew in to swap stories

Hangar-flying - pilots swapping stories-
tied us together, strangers meeting to share

We shared breakfast together, strangers no more, because Sunday morning, Dad would take me flying.

Prompt: Write a "duplex"poem - a variation on the sonnet, developed by the poet Jericho Brown.