The hardest part about writing poetry, at least sometimes, is not knowing how it will end and how I will get there.
It usually flows pretty easily at first – like that time I told you about the hardest part about writing poetry.
Then I might fumble a bit in the middle as I buy some time, looking for something clever to say while trying to avoid becoming self-referential.
And then comes the ending.
It usually takes even me by surprise.
Especially today, since I’ve been daydreaming this whole time, vividly recalling my younger days as a pilot flying solo for the US Post Office in Omaha.
Back in the 1940s.
The decade before I was born.
© TZampino 2020
Image Credit: Pixabay