Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I’m wondering about the woman
in the next seat, what she may think
if I showed her this poem;
after all, we are both in an airplane,
flying over southern Minnesota

me, off to see my oldest son
on Long Island; her, to an island
near Vancouver, one she will arrive
at on a ferry to spend fours days
staring at pelicans decompressing
from her job at Mayo Clinic; at least
this is what she told me earlier

It is so beautiful to fly at night,
the tiny lights of the cities below
like twinkles of snow dust
one might see in far away places
like Prague or Krasnodar

as far away as the woman’s thoughts
are right now, her eyes closed, breath
easy; as far as my eyes can see
out of the little port window
of the airplane in the dark of night

farther than I can shout I Love You
in a foreign language, farther than
the naked eye can see; farther
than it is between the lines
of this poem no one will read

this really came together and got me going in the last 2 stanzas.

i don't fly at night tho i'm afraid of flight attendants always smiling at me.

at least here @ S8, some folks will read it, some will comment, some won't...

your words ascended, then landed.....here......there is only solitude in writing, until you set your words free.......thanx for posting......enjoyed the sentiments

Hey, I thought you said nobody would see this poem - that makes you some kind of wrong, don't it?

When I infer that "no one will read" the poem, it's kind of a play on reading "between" the lines...or something like that. There's also a physical "read" to a poem and a psychological "read" to a poem. It may refer to that. Or not.

FYI: I don't worry so much about the flight attendant, but the lady two rows behind me on my last flight just didn't look right to me :O