Oct 2018
An alusive light that enters
The windows of a jetliner
A pack of wolves strapped in
And ready for takeoff
And I—amongst them, their own—
Fly to an unknown destination
There I sit—reclined, yet tense—
As the flight weighs on my soul
The howls overtake the aircraft
As the moon arrives and makes
Its sultry—and swift—anticipated entry
But there I see no more stars
They vanished—one by one,
Who am I?—Who is manning this
Aircraft—and I wake,
To a cup of coffee and a biscuit
I have landed—that at least,
But no amount of luggage
That passes by my aged eyes
Are mine—yet all yours
I look frantic—as I seek you,
But then I remember—
As you vanish in the distance,
Your memory is all I brought with me
Paradise, 2018
The windows of a jetliner
A pack of wolves strapped in
And ready for takeoff
And I—amongst them, their own—
Fly to an unknown destination
There I sit—reclined, yet tense—
As the flight weighs on my soul
The howls overtake the aircraft
As the moon arrives and makes
Its sultry—and swift—anticipated entry
But there I see no more stars
They vanished—one by one,
Who am I?—Who is manning this
Aircraft—and I wake,
To a cup of coffee and a biscuit
I have landed—that at least,
But no amount of luggage
That passes by my aged eyes
Are mine—yet all yours
I look frantic—as I seek you,
But then I remember—
As you vanish in the distance,
Your memory is all I brought with me
Paradise, 2018
I live close to my city’s airport and pass by it to go pretty much anywhere. It reminds me of when I used to travel and when I’d pass through airports thinking if your radiant eyes and overthink the time it took for you to respond to my text. Or maybe my heart sinking when you asked how my flight was. It’s still all the little things that matter the most.
