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At the Airport

At the Airport
By kennethcook on 06/08/2013
Viewed: 205
Reviews: 1
I sit in impatient anticipation,
my hands nervously fidgeting,
and my dancing feet making
random, nonsensical patterns
on the blue carpeted airport floor.
I wiggle and bounce in the plastic seat
like a restless child, until I can
take this waiting game no longer.
I hop up and begin to pace the floor
like an expectant father, my eyes
darting from the shops to the ads
to the people to nothing in particular.
She's coming home to me today:
The only woman I've loved all these years,
and I'm as nervous as a man on trial
waiting for the jury's verdict.
The call comes at long last,
and I head to the gate with my heart thumping,
banging and racing like a washing machine.
There she is, and as I knew would happen,
my eyes well-up, and the tears begin to trickle
down my flushed cheeks in tiny twin streams.
I thought I'd be ready to see her this way,
but deep inside I knew the truth:
How could anybody be prepared for this?
And so, lost in unimaginable sorrow,
I walk beside her shiny mahogany casket,
on our way to her final stop.

Kenneth Norman Cook

By kennethcook On 6/8/2013 8:10:07 AM

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