A Flying Airplane

When I was still a little kid

I love to see the airplane flying high across the blue sky

It was to me like a surprising magic visitor for my plain afternoon

It looked like  a tiny mosquito in the sky’s huge ceiling

As I laid down on a tiny green grass covered ground

I would wonder and asked myself;

“Why does that airplane looks so tiny?

Was it because my eyes are too small to see it?

Is it because of I am looking at it as a child? 

Will an airplane still look tiny even when it does not fly?

Can it see me from high up there?

Does it know that I am now looking at it in admiration?

and so my question went on and on until I almost fell asleep on the ground

Mom called me in a loud voice to get back into the house.

The airplane had gone away.

‘See you again airplane,” I said before leaving the ground.