Poetry

Going

By 26th January 2009December 9th, 2019No Comments

The time has come,
My ride awaits,
Load up the car
And out the gates

Goodbye’s are said
In the dead of night
Four months ahead
What is my plight.

Bright roadside light’s
Attract my eye’s
As darkness lead’s
The way to Brize.

Six long hour’s
Of hanging around,
In alphabetical order
To the next pound

At last the door’s
Are opened wide.
Were up,
Over country’s glide.

The flight is packed
Food is bland
Attendant’s with extra
Offering’s in hand

But no-one take’s
Another meal
Politely declining.
That’s how I feel.

Sleep seems very
Hard to find
The aircraft noise
An active mind.

Then I awake
Look around and blink
I must have had an hour
I think

Another tasteless meal comes by
As were descending
From the sky
The pilot gives his
Landing speech
Wishes goodwill
To all and each

A seamless flight
All goes to plan
The wheel’s touch down

AFGHANISTAN.

Ross Bowen

Author Ross Bowen

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