Lucid in the Sky

Skydiving with Paul McCartney one day;
Scotland, late summer, nineteen sixty eight.
Eleanor Rigby our pilot back then,
something of a substitution, a late
replacement to fly us among the clouds,
away from the office, the typewriter,
(and here I speak for myself--not for Paul),
because in that yesterday Paul would sing
eight days a week or more, and with Lennon,
Starr and Harrison, that rather stalwart group,
get back to business of record album,
to making music, (that revolution),
hello, goodbye, to Lucy in the Sky.
And so it was with irony unleashed,
as I looked at Paul and Paul looked at me,
that sun reflected off those cirrus clouds
sparkling like diamonds, and we both grinned;
minds would come together thinking Lucy,
yet Lucy would not show as we were pressed
by blowing wind at growing altitude.
We reached our point and we prepared to jump;
I patted Paul upon the back--thumbs up!
(Did I detect the plaintive cry of help?)
Then plummeting to Earth, we felt the thrill,
and we upon the atmosphere would ride,
and reaching out, I grabbed Paul’s hand and thought,
high above strawberry fields, I feel fine.

The next day at my Aberdeen office,
I grabbed the white rotary phone, and with
glee, called the States to inform my father.


30 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
1-8-15
_______

Requirements:
--Paul McCartney
--record album
--typewriter
--rotary phone