airport

i sit and watch the travelers
and my mind muses idly:
the corridor’s the same,
the destination varies widely

for some have mortgaged all they have
to get from here to there —
while others fly luxurious,
but barely are aware

and some have sorrows in their seats,
and others ride in joy;
and that man’s in his nineties, while
that one is just a boy

the woman two seats down is dressed
with elegance and grace;
the young girl just behind her wears
her worry on her face

so many worries and concerns,
so many passing faces;
for though we fly on the same plane,
we land in different places

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