An Alternative View

[I don’t think I’ve posted this one before.]

*

I remember

a black and white photo of a boy

in bed on Christmas morning,

a model-plane kit on the blanket;

coloured in my memory.

I remember hands hurting in the snow;

throbbing pink after snowballing.

I remember no Christmas tree

but the dry weightlessness

of balsa wood and pressing pins

to secure wings to paper

plan; sharp addictive smell

of glue and drum-like tautness

of dope-stretched tissue across

wing ribs and fuselage; winding up

elastic band powered propeller. Its level flight

reward enough for patience.

I remember a solid fuel pack

when lit sent another plane

out of sight with a fizz and a buzz

and a burnt chemical stink. I lost that plane

when it flew over roof tops.

I remember gazing at grey snowflakes

drifting against a bright sky and wondering

why everyone said snow was white.