The jet liner was heading west
To Las Vegas. The flight was full.
I'd been trying to get some rest,
Dreaming of a winning slots pull.
I woke up hearing voices raised.
Some passengers seemed quite upset.
Attendants tried to calm the crazed.
We were hours late and the jet
Was flying over ocean blue.
Nothing was heard from the cockpit.
Some guys did what they had to do -
Smashed the locked door, breaking through it.
It was a dire sight to behold.
There sat the pilots passed out cold.
Comments about this poem (Flightmare by Ima Ryma )
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