Airplanes take off at any hour,
but it's important,
because how else,
can I reach my destination?
The time was around 12,
but here I was,
with my bags,
but not just because.
I see how when takeoff approaches,
I feel the adrenaline,
I see the ground below me,
start to decrease.
I watch from the middle,
while the excitement
rushes through my veins,
here I go.
I approach my destination,
I see a bridge of red,
not gold,
but like gold,
it still glimmers in the sun.
I think if it's a metaphor,
perhaps not,
but something inside me thinks,
not everything has to be gold
for it to be gold.
If that makes sence.
YOU ARE READING
Airplane: A Collection of Poems
Poesía"People are like planes in an airport, and are like water coming and going from shore, some stay when a plane lands from far away, and some go like water receding from the day..."
