Passengers Poem by Zyw Zywa

Dressed in mama's nightgown
skating in the middle of the street
and making long journeys
with trains in the attic, yet
if someone later says

...It was already there
...you know, don't you?
...Twelve years old...
...two four six eight ten
...who is not gone, is seen

...just look around you:
...people are on their way
...all of them passengers
...in a private seat joining
...the flight to the same

...the travel rules are clear
...put on the safety belts
...for extras, you have to pay
...but love and fate
...are nowhere for sale

then shrug your shoulders
and start talking about something else
because reason demands that
you don't take anything personally
even if it is about you