The return flight
has always been a story of longing:
of numbers written on paper,
of pictures printed and framed,
projections of dreams and
the 5AM sun
peering to greet her “good morning”
How I long to see the clouds
on her cheeks, sipping on coffee
in some seat, where the waiting ends.
while bags go along the belt,
while feet go along.
dancing to Piaf playing,
under their heartbeats.
in the same 11AM summer.
and the same words of coming
8th of the 9th. 2014. 4:52PM (DXB)
Greetings, Stranger (?)