Through the tumultuous clouds,
A jittery touchdown-
Army helicopters,
Grey whining sky, grey ground
Of this city now torn
Apart by rage and fear,
Somewhere, on the outskirts
Lies the place where you are.
Perhaps I swooped over
Its walls as we flew in-
Did you gaze upwards at
The plane's descending din?
The doors open, faces
Impatient, jostling, vexed,
I pull out the mobile
And punch in a quick text:
"I am at the airport,
Stopping over" and then
I ring, but there is no
Response, I ring again.
The same. Now the doors close,
I must switch off the phone,
Waiting for departure
And finally airborne.
The ground recedes, and you
Remain somewhere, unseen,
Leaving me to muse- what
And how much you must mean
To have thus been able
To invade the dense
Labyrinths of my mind
Through proximal absence.
As the plane carries me
Away across the miles
I think of your smokerings
And your tearbrimmed smiles.
