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.’
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