the airport

 

Leaving the warm terminal,

Walking down the indifferent jet way,

His bag rolling on behind him,

A ticket grasped firmly in his hand.

 

The cold hit him first,

Chilling cold biting nerves,

Drilling deep into his skin,

Shivering down the length.

 

The smell, the stink,

The rancid jet fuel,

Burning his throat,

In chilled airy breaths.

 

The choking, stagnant air,

The cramped middle seat,

The beast that roars to life,

His at thirty five thousand feet.

 

Reviews

[poetic soul]

wow!! thrilling.. nice poem there... especially the concept!

:) Smiles,
Poetic Soul

[xXxBuNnIIxXx]

hehe ^_^ its really nice! *claps and hugs* :3

[Smile It's Megan&hearts..]

Hm... I liked it. It had a good flow and good a good image. Nice write :]