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Poetry
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| Airport (revised) | |
| By mishmish | ||||||
| 05 June 2006 | ||||||
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I had this poem floating round in my head while going to pick up someone from Heathrow on Sunday, I thought I'd better get it down and post it while it was fresh in my mind. I’ve been thinking An airport is a funny thing Both sadness and happiness Does it bring. Dreams are lost… …and found Each time a plane takes off Or lands on the ground Inside the terminal Such a huge cavern Where anything could And usually does happen A microcosm of ordered upheaval A universe massed With confused, tired people Immigrant workers, Expectancy in their eyes Not knowing the promises Were just cold, hard lies Agitated businessmen Watching the time Long straggly queues Forever out of line Screaming kids Craving parents’ attention Grungy travellers Baulking convention Cool couples decked in Versace Spending thousands on jeans Well, that’s just beyond me Anxious security guards Eying the gathered throng MP3 clad teenagers Checking the latest song An airport… Receptacle of souls Collector of emotions Much more than just a place To buy sun lotion.
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