Flight Paths Poem by Sheena Blackhall

This is the parting time, for daughter, father
The moment flights are called and father leaves.
This ends the time that they will spend together.
The moment flights are called and father leaves.
He strokes her face, his lips press on her brow
She frowns a little, for a moment, grieves

This ends the time that they will spend together
Their short goodbyes speak of abandonment
Outside grey clouds are tipping down their rain

He strokes her face, his lips press on her brow
She curls her toes, inside her sandals, tightening
He is her sunshine. She’s his little lark

Outside grey clouds are tipping down their rain
Suddenly they’re marooned, the day seems stark
A desolation that they have no words for

He is her sunshine. She’s his little lark
Together they have made a memory store
This is the parting time for daughter, father
A desolation that they have no words for
This ends the time that they will spend together