My son wrote a little poem after our trip to Llano for the Texas STOL Roundup.
He showed it to a friend of ours and he said to call it "The Solo"

The Solo

Looking down the runway the prop begins to turn
I try to remember all that I've learned
I add some throttle and grab the yoke
I hope this all isn't one big joke
I release the brakes and begin to roll
All that stress was taking its toll
Speeding up now and the tail picks up
It's now or never wish me good luck
My speed is right and I draw the yoke back
The stress begins to fade and that's right on track
I'm airborne now and begin to climb
No more stress and it's about time
Looking down at the earth
I can't help but wonder Why it all just seems like one big blunder
The freedom i feel while I'm in the air
Can only be measured if you're willing to dare
I enter the pattern and I turn downwind
I feel like I'm leaving my one true friend
I bank for base and my heart starts to pound
Be with me lord all the way to the ground
I turn on final and she starts to sink
I need more time is all I think
As I pull the power and start my flare
All my worries I just don't care
My wheels touch the pad and I slow her down
I need more fuel for one more round.

Sean McMahon