Airport Poem by William Cheesman
Airport
Bright white lights shine down
Over look this constant sound
Travellers floc, never mind their source
Neon light glows, off the bill boards
Breathing corps spread out almond the floor
They wait for mourn, already there sore
Men in jackets patrol this hall
Half 1 yet there still on the ball
Trolleys stacked high with stuff
Going wherever fate decides, hoping on luck
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4/24/2024 3:53:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
