Another late night jet.
The IPod and Ety's set,
A melancholy tune inside my head.
All other sounds now dead.
I feel the touch of soft gazes
As I focus on a parade of faces.
All streaming past me,
As I watch in quiet reverie.
Weary travellers mostly tonight
Ready to get on with their flight.
Every one has bought a space
And each now seeks that place.
Young, old, plain, beautiful.
Some ebullient, some thoughtful.
Most travelling to join others happily,
Others flying away, departing tearfully.
To my eyes only several connect.
In an instant we're content,
Having exchanged all we ever will.
Nodding in a singular act of goodwill.
Over years I made a few friends.
Small talked or shared portends.
Lent a shoulder to unhappy faces.
Been a good listener in some cases.
Tonight I'm content with isolation,
Not feeling any need for conversation.
Using music to set my heart free,
He drifts to where it wants to be.
The mind continues to keep pace,
And I dare not miss a face.
Silly, it knows you are now far away,
Your face will not be here today.
Hollow eyes peer from this quiet shell,
As the heart struggles to break the spell.
Finally, I close tired eyes in defeat,
Knowing you'll never sit beside me.
Your smiling face I miss so, so much.