The Landing...

Flying high...
On a cold crisp December gust.
Before the end...
This right here is a defendant must!

The wind, so cold,
The rush, so fun...
The feeling here so old.
Yet barely comparable to a good run.

Left on the ground is fright and excuses,
All those silly feelings up here are useless.

When soaring sky high...
The emotions tremble in a merry little cry.
Tears streak don in a happy sorta way,
You cry out "DAMN that was a good day!"

When you start to watch the time creep on by,
All your mind keeps asking is simply; "Why?"

The end to the journey is near on by,
As through the clouds and past the sky...
You see the final last good bye...

Starting with clouds
and ending in the landing...
Scared to see it end...
Even if the flight is so demanding...