Papa (Fictional)

Mi Papa and I are best friends. I go visit him every weekend, he tells me stories about how when he was my age he would do all sorts of crazy things. He would tell me how he used to be in a motorcycle gang that would roam the streets doing sick tricks. He would take me on car rides in his old vintage Chevy. Take me to go get ice cream on hot Sundays. He was the jolliest of men. Papa is the best. I haven’t been able to visit recently, I’ve been getting caught up in sports and I have just no time. It makes me sad knowing that Papa is lonely on some of these weekends. Mama says Papa hasn’t been feeling the best, and I haven’t been there to take care of him. These sports are getting rid of my time to help Papa. I remember all the times I could roam the streets with Papa walking and listening to his stories. Papa is feeling worse and worse by the day. And every day I can’t visit to help. I am disappointing Papa by not being there at his lowest, but I can’t help having minimal time. Mama says Papa is gone, I can’t control myself, I couldn’t say goodbye. Papa is no longer with us. I can’t spend weekends at Papa’s house anymore. I can’t hear any of his fun stories anymore. I can’t go out and get ice cream on hot Sundays with him anymore. I can’t ride in his old Chevy with him anymore. I can’t spend time with Mi Papa.

image courtesy of Unsplash

A Silly Phase (Fictional)

I’m not in love. So don’t forget it… It was just a silly phase I was going through. Is what she said to me. Time and time again. I’d wait. And she would not come. I would sit there looking and staring at the moon waiting for a ring on the phone. But nothing. No text. No call. Not even a hi at school. I don’t know how a girl can be so interested one day. And completely forget about you the next. I just wait and wait and wait. But it was just a silly phase she was going through. I was a silly phase in her life. I always wonder…

Won’t you please let me. Back in your heart?

                                                            image courtesy of The Jackson 5

Apollo 13 (Fictional)

Darling, you got to let me know, Should I stay or Should I go? Is what I asked my wife about the Apollo mission. 

You saw what happened to those poor astronauts on the other mission honey

Yah but there’s new technology on this spacecraft

I don’t know dear

I can’t deny this. Being the first people on the moon is going to be in the history books. Kids will look up to me. I’d be in the daily newspaper. I’d be on the television I need to do it.

I’m going on the mission… The rockets are engaging. I am going to be part of the team that makes it to the moon. I can not believe it. My wife packed my bags last night before the flight. I am going to be a rocket man…

The rocket is out of control. The engine is failing, pressures is increasing and decreasing. I am trying to fix it. Our crew is stressing. This mission is going to be a failure. I don’t care I need to go home. I miss the Earth and I miss my wife. It’s lonely out in space.

Oh, no, no, no I’m a rocket man, burning out his fuse up here alone. And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time. Til touchdown brings me ‘round again to find…

     image courtesy of Elton John

Dreamt of a Star (Fictional)

My mama was a dreamer. She dreamt her dreams. She dreamed of the big lights over her, the crowd yelling woo at her, standing ovations, my mom dreamt her dreams. She has real talent, she could’ve been a star. But she never fully comprehended it. She didn’t attempt her way to a star. She was too scared of failure. She has talent as her singing is as beautiful as a dandelion blooming. My mom could’ve been a star, her lyrics and rhythm sound like a bumblebee’s buzz. She loved to imagine the fans asking for autographs and she would sign them. She dreams of the experience but she never fulfilled it. She never chased her dreams. My mom could’ve been a star if she ever tried to live her dreams. 

image courtesy of Unsplash

A Long Time Ago… (Fictional)

A long, long, time ago I can still remember how that music used to make me smile

Every night I’d sing to my darling, danced, and shivered. But when I remembered, the news I delivered. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn’t dance in debt. I don’t remember if I cried, when I delivered the news of my widowed bride. To the son of my wife. But we went on a drive in my Chevy to the levee, and it was dry. I don’t remembered the last time music made me smiled. But that was the day… the… music… died…

image courtesy of Don McLean