Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Charles, Woody, Paul (my father)
Three boys in Arizona
Waited to board the plane,
One was sheltered, one stole horses,
The orphan used our family name.
Little did they realize,
Flying over the Arizona plain,
One would die of whisky,
In self-inflicted pain.
One would be a gambler,
Beneath Las Vegas stars,
Dying broke supporting women,
Impressed with sporty cars.
One became a physicist,
Flying in planes around the world.
Leaving behind the other two boys,
Whose wings seldom were unfurled.