Please remember me, Lord:
I'm the fidgety one
that's scared to death of heights;
that same one that’s now strapped
so tightly into this plane seat
that my legs are turning purple.
I’ve never liked flying before, Lord,
so You’d do me a great favor
if You’d give this bus with wings
Your undivided attention.
I’ve read novels about jets,
so I know what can go wrong with them:
the tail could blow off, or
the engines could overheat,
it’s not that I’m panicking;
I’ve done that long ago.
it’s just I tend to worry
about the other passengers.
How do You think they’ll feel, Lord
if I have to be carried off this flight
in a total collapse?