Winging It

For my Sister, who I will always remember as Peter Pan.

From my window seat I gazed out at rivers and roads as they wound their ways over the landscape below, occasionally dimmed by my tears.
From my window seat I gazed out at rivers and roads as they wound along over the landscape, occasionally blurred by tears.

Two winding roads brought us here

with twists and turns

unexpected

Like ribbons intertwined

our paths would cross

until

Separately we traveled

each path’s distance

unknown

One winding road leads me on

with bends and forks

unforeseen

My path’s sharp angles

obscure choices ahead

unwritten

Always looking, searching

plagued with questions

unanswered

Looking through your eyes

or you through mine

unblinking

Flight impossible for fear

now you soar with me

untethered

My Sister as Peter Pan circa 1968