The jet-planes beam across the sky

Leaving these trails of white

Painting across the sky, so blue

Funneling out of sight

Into the upper stratospere

They criss-cross past each other

Circling about the atmospere

Like over bread, they butter

When I was just a little boy

I'd thought that they'd passed gas

Farting a poof of white behind

Shooting along so fast

I'd watched them puffing on and off

With childish glee, I'd laugh

Pooping a strew of cotton balls

Like pointers on a graph

Just watch them missile through the clouds

Until they disappeared

Flipping and spinning as they went

Seeing the lines they smeared

Just like a white paintbrush had swiped on by

And drew above the city

Against the skyline, blue with dye

I thought it looked so pretty

Until this day, I watch and gaze

Upon those far contrails

Peering, peering, as they go

Just blazing out a trail