fear of flying
24 May 2014
like cooing pigeons, we flutter,
then mate,
await the perfunctory report,
a nervous laugh,
a knowing smile,
that silent questioning need
to survey truth,
eyes meeting,
minds slightly wandering
between selfish and sufficient,
like a compass needle stuck
on magnetic North,
still, we arrive, our destination,
the journey itself a treat,
remembered revelations,
across the canvas of your face,
the coos and squeaks and silent sighs,
I’m not quite so afraid to fly.
Oh, I liked this one, Michael! Sweet and yes, a ‘treat!’
thanks Robin, glad you liked it.