Oh, you fearless high flyer,
Loop the looper.
Where is your home,
You homemade wonder?
Who is the hero holding your fate?
Yesterday’s newspapers, twigs and twine
Loosely bound with flour paste.
Rag bag tail of red and paisley
Waiting for the wind to
Do its splendid magic
Lifting you so you can dance
Among the clouds,
Making gawkers strain their necks
With careless wonder at your ease.
And I, your pilot,
Groundsman, soul mate,
I am the master of your sky.
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