The Flight Before Christmas

A quick poem I wrote while sitting in San Francisco airport during the holiday season.

Twas the flight before Christmas, my airline can espouse
My patience stretched thin, like icing on a fragile gingerbread house.

My trip to the Northwest planned diligently and with care
In hopes my strategy will eventually get me there.

But bad weather would hold my plane firmly so snug in the red
While visions of flight delays began to dance in my head.

To Oregon I must journey on this stormy gray day
Braving crowded airlines and the hostile subway.

A journey for business, my timely arrival tis important
Surely an airline attendant must offer help in some form or assortment.

"Spare a flight to Portland?" I ask in a verbal tiptoe
"None whatsoever" she continued, "especially from San Francisco."

I must leave! depart! and head for the sky!
But the best the attendant could do was give me the seventh slot on standby.

"Now, Delta! now, Donavia! now Lufthansa and Virgin!
On, Emirates! on, United! on, Empire and Caribbean!"

This I chant repeatedly as my mind rapidly juxtaposes
Surrounded by sick travelers who sneeze and sniffle with their red, runny noses.

Hours elapse, and my hope grows thin
All stranded travelers playing the same instrument-- the world's tiniest violin.

Past walks a man in a black leather jacket
Gold wingtips crest his shoulders, sparkling on every facet.

A stoic face with a demeanor rather private
I knew in a moment this must be my flight's pilot.

I pray for a seat on this outbound aeronautical vehicle
My mind made up-- this will require a genuine Christmas miracle.

Lo and behold! my name is summons in a loud tone of glory
The attendant mispronouncing my name "tore" as opposed to the proper: "Torr-E."

Standby ticket torn in two as I receive my boarding pass
Screaming children of the airport, I bid you adieu as I leave this place in an uncanny flash.

The plane a tiny puddle-jumper with no more than four seats per row
Finding space for luggage requires us weary travelers to dig, rummage, and burrow.

Now seated aboard, my anxiety begins to trough
Especially as the pilot announces: "flight attendants, prepare for take-off!"

I spent hours waiting for this flight, but it was not in vain
For nothing can thwart the veteran traveler; not sleet nor snow, or rain.

Many travelers pass the time with family in deep holiday cheer
Yet I'm happy in solitude; especially with pen and paper near.

For I created a poem on this otherwise lonely flight
So Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Author's Note

Let me know what you think!

Reviews

[Lizardo]

This is wonderful and exceptional! i like the line: ''Now seated aboard, my anxiety begins to trough
Especially as the pilot announces: "flight attendants, prepare for take-off!" it is probably what all of the travelers have felt before, incredible poem.

[W.k.kortas]

It's exceptionally clever and pungent, but the good Mr. Moore was also a stickler for maintaining a constant meter, whereas the flow here is as bumpy as turbulence. If you smoothed out the meter, you'd have a first-class parody piece here.

[David Torre]

Thanks! This is actually my first poem, and even though I couldn't put my finger on what you describe as the "meter" I could tell the phrase length was choppy. But thanks so much for taking the time to review!! Cheers.

[suchitra sarmah]

Yet I'm happy in solitude; especially
with pen and paper near.-i love these lines,anyway good work,keep it up