(Inspired in part by this (as quoted by Gordon B. Hinkley here):
"I am always moved by this simple verse of Anne Campbell, written in behalf of her child. Said she:
You are the trip I did not take;
You are the pearls I cannot buy;
You are my blue Italian lake;
You are my piece of foreign sky.
Many of you are mothers...When you grow old and your hair turns white, you will not ask about the fancy clothes you once wore, the cars you drove, or the large house in which you lived. Your burning question will be, “How have my children turned out?” ")
Airplane
I like to watch
The red-eye winking
In predictable time
From the tips of her wings
As she descends back
Toward earth
From a long journey to another world.
...Another titanic silver albatross
And another,
A silent queue
Converging
In a neat line,
Others ascending
One by one,
Then turning
Over the mountains
And out of sight.
Where are you going?
Where have you been?
Tell me your stories
As you
Spin golden threads
In a web
Across the sky;
Threads connecting
Mumbai,
Delhi,
Bangladesh,
London Heathrow,
Paris,
and Arrivederci.
I want to go there
Some day;
For now,
I want to stay,
Tie shoes,
Kiss boo-boos,
Grow life traveller-adventurers.
Today I'm content
To watch you
Ascend, descend, descend,
Ascend, and dream
Your story.
Where are you going?
Where have you been?
