Pompeii Blue Liam Ball
Oh, that wonderful Pompeii Blue, Between the far off green lands,
From where she would fly from and to, Over the pearly white sands.
In a plane with such little wingspan,
Held together as if by sticks and glue,
Helmed by a pilot by the name Joanne, She was a one-woman crew.
High above the countless seas,
No cloud in sight since sunrise,
The smell of salt was in the breeze, She drifted through clear skies.
The sky would not always be blue, And soon the sun would set,
Though that was hardly new, But was still easy to forget.
It did not mean she would have to go,
Just because it would soon be the night,
She wouldn’t have to wait till tomorrow, For she did not need to stop her flight.
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