I Wish I Were a Plane

February 1, 2011
I wish I were a plane, flying high in the air; looking down at the majestic mountains and unknowable seas. Above me suspends the vast heavens. Below me lies only the earth. I would be free to go wherever I want. No one could stop me or avert my path. I would get lonely sometimes. Then, I would look under me and see the world and the people that need me to be transported. I would be a big plane with lots of room for people while they sit. I would fly as high as I could go. Fearless, I would venture over oceans and hostile countries. Heights would not scare me. The expanse of the world would be my only limit, the lack of fuel, my only reins. I would be a strong plane. My life would be long and prosperous. After my bolts and screws got old and I would become too old to fly, I would go to the museum and be visited by many old friends. I would be cherished. The people for whom I once cared would repay my kindness by looking after me, my legacy remembered. Then I would spend the rest of what would be left in my life watching the people, one by one, look in amazement at my sturdy walls and noble frame.

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