Skyhigh...

"Mayday, Mayday" if I could only say. Something had clipped my wings. My engine that I once thought is capable of a 90-degree climb is now failing. Could this be a sign of aging? The wind is friendly, the altitude is right. Clouds, yes, a very soft blanket of cotton it appears to me. Beside me is a determined old plane constantly checking. I struggle, but more than that, she too. Her engine's rattling, her hose is leaking, the rudder's dis-aligned and and the fuselage is shaking. But more than that, she keeps on checking. "Fly now, fly high, mother will be proud and father will jump high, fly now fly high!" I'm trying, I'm crying... though I'm stalling, I'll keep on trying, i'll keep on flying!