I am not a poet. Lets get that straight. However, I read a lot of poetry and when I find myself on an airplane I write one.
Airports and flying make me melancholy. Something about leaving the ground makes everything in my life seem insignificant.
Here is one I wrote on a flight from Myrtle Beach last May.
Sometimes I miss the old
Before cell phones and the
The mystery of unknown
information and the yearning
that took your feet down to
the library to go through
a card catalogue and the
treasure hunt of the dewey
I miss the ring of old phones
the big round earpiece that
covered your ear – not sleek but
functional. The cord that could
only go so far.
It was when traveling meant
you were unreachable and the
locals still held their secrets.
Old movies are the keepers of these
I watch them on my cell phone.