Leaving and Returning
There was a rainbow in our sky
The day before I had to fly.
Arcing between this corner and the next,
It kissed the viaduct goodbye
then curved and rounded into the distance.
And we watched it fade, through the window.
I thought ahead to the journey,
but in truth it was mundane.
Flying fields and snatches of gossip
at each station on the train.
One puffed, from a guilty packet of fags,
on the concourse of terminal three.
Fish and chips at the last chance café.
Knotted nerves; retracted landing gear,
blank music, food, loss of fear.
Insomnia and the occasional tear.
Conveyors, escalators, loose change in Dubai,
until it was all behind; an arc in the sky.
Now you grin, laugh and say:
‘Will you send me a postcard, Grandad?
A picture of you and me, together,
on a roller coaster, forever.’