I sat with another clip board, another list
welcoming those whose once small faces,
mad dashes, hot tears
and cold contempts
rattled these walls for five years
Some had beards, some hips, brio,
some adult eyes
that took two or three glances to recognise
the child still in
Almost all had smiles
Behind them, trooping colour to the tennis courts,
their summer school scions
began their own gangly rise
turning a familiar turn
For those that leave:
your threads become part of the tapestry,
a picture writ with deep love, excitement, applause,
dire fears and tiredness,
here be dragons and arrows in eyes
but despite the hamfists
of some intrusive hands,
there to see forever
Confetti all around
for the lovers,
and the haters, too.
Waving **** heads off is easy, but how about the lovers?
i must admit i am in awe of the way you walk past the immigration office
(or the way you walked out that door, but we musn't dwell on things.)
like you have nothing to hide - like secrets float off your cheek
(it's rather silly how your secrets are much more obvious when you toss and turn underneath my sheets.)
therapists told me to take a journey well into my soul
(they told me to dive, but we both know i'm only capable of unintentionally falling.)
i love watching your hands loosen their grip on the sides of the aeroplane seats
(although remembering you loosen your grip on me isn't quite as pleasant)
they told me to visit my happy place so i threw a dart at the map
(but let's be honest - without you home already feels like a hotel.)
and it amazes me how now with all the rust you've smothered onto my veins, you still expect me to walk peacefully through airport metal detectors.
(tried out a new writing style yay)
departure halls are sad but the journey to those halls are even worse. a fleeting thought.
this was incredibly fun to write, and all my alter egos agree.
— The End —