the flight that never left
my clothes are unpacked
my suitcase hasn’t moved from it’s spot
in the dusty attic storage space
the tickets haven’t been printed
I never got my passport updated
on my evening walk I thought I smelled
the airport,
soft chemicals, sweaty clothes,
and too much perfume and cologne
four years
saving,
waiting,
planning,
is too long
not to see family
the ocean stretches between us
and our flight will never cross it.
4 thoughts on "the flight that never left"
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Very mysterious. We are just left to wonder why, which I think is good.
This poem takes flight so part of you got off the ground! So many plans were disrupted this year. Where were you going? (And may you still get there in your future!)
I read the poem as a metaphor for many of my plans that go undone.
Sylvia, I was headed to Norfolk, England to visit my dad’s side of the family. We hope to reschedule when it is safe to visit them.