photo from Google images
Journeys are tedious: hurry up and then wait.
Waiting to check-in by slow shuffling paces,
queuing to pass through security gate.
Nothing but suffering useless announcements
banal, and repetitive, not at all clear.
Peer at high screens showing times and places;
flight number eternally fails to appear.
Flight was once thought to be an adventure.
and now it is hours of contraptions of torture
masquerading as seats that are bruising my rear,
blood flow stopped dead at the back of my knees.
Will nothing release me? The time must be near.
A miracle happens, blurred voice from the ceiling:
‘Proceed to gate fourteen now if you please.’
Margo Roby’s prompt is the schoolteacher’s September stock-in-trade : ”What I did on my vacation.” We don’t normally do vacations, as we live in prime vacation territory, but I do go and see my kids from time to time. The interminable waiting associated with flight always leaves me with notebooks full of scribbled poetry, most of it the result of jangled nerves.
This coincided with the Trifecta challenge to write about Flight in 33-333 words. For once, 33 words were not sufficient for this quasi-sonnet.