The older him sits watching airplanes fly

Tall in his height and his long silver beard

What's black and white like magpies simplified

Are those sky rooms near functions of the gears

The younger him walks to his better side

Small in his height and size for his small brain

Will now watch those same planes fly their long ride

Without the heaviness of morning's train

From noticing the presence of the young

Does he turn to look to his other self

The younger proud to see how far he's come

The older proud to see that he's the help

"Did you do it?" said the bright younger him

"Not yet" replied the honest older him