Літаки

unnamed.jpgI used to live by the airport.
The neighbors didn’t like it
because of all the noise the
planes made as they crossed
above us in the sky, like mighty
dragons making their way to
guard a heavy treasure.

As a child, I used to stare out
from the window each time
I heard the heady rumble of a
take-off, my dreams dangling
from the tips of the wings,
carrying them off somewhere,
teasing me into chasing them.

Since I left home, I never lived
near an airport again, but
on some nights, I wake to the
imagined sound of a rumbling
take-off, the growing thunder
of a new dream, imploring me
to go and chase it…

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