He got onto the plane with the young pilot and had
him take off into the wind."Now fly low to the left of
the forest fire and make a few passes..."
"Why? "
"I want to take some pictures... That's what I do...
I am a photographer, okay? "
"You're not the instructor? "
*free verse... prose on a poem site
Good request and good response. Beautiful. Please kindly check my poems HOPE and THE BEAUTY OF DEATH. Kingsley Egbukole.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Uh oh...
Uh oh indeed