Vapour trails - Stapleton

Your head north

Follow lines on the canvas

The sky is too big to fit through my eyes

Borrowed blue for a while

Silver etches

Windows in the sand

Take my hand

I’m the hangar

You’re the plane

Follow instincts

Like roadsigns on a map with no markings

Reflections cut the air in two

Shaking hands at right angles to a wheel

Ever left the memory of a summer at an airport stand?

Take my hand

I’m the hangar

You’re the plane

You do all the miles

I wait on the ground for you

Swimming

Your name has less letters in it every time i see you sometimes your altitude

Gets me down

Ten seconds to come home

But you always take the long way

Sunshine makes a smoother land

Take my hand

I’m the hangar

Your’e the plane