Friday, August 10, 2007

Blasé about Air Travel II

When I was young and strong of lung,
To travel on a plane was an adventure.
It seemed so rare to go by air
That high excitement bordered on dementia.
The engines’ roar, the way we’d soar
Above the earth to where the sun was shining,
The popping ears, the hidden fears,
The scanning of dark cloud for silver lining.

Along the way, we got blasé,
And flight today has lost it’s sense of wonder.
We’re on, we’re off, we belch and cough
And have no qualms the plane will fall asunder.
The stewardess may still address
Locations of life-jacket, light and toggle,
But we just yawn in abject scorn
With minds that sadly long since ceased to boggle.

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