…has fallen asleep softly on my shoulder.
I haven’t the heart to wake her up during,
deciding that anyone able to drift off
at forty-thousand feet deserves their sleep.
I catch a glimpse of her through my phone screen,
she’s cute, drained from a prolonged airport stay,
hair dishevelled, but pretty all the same, slim frame,
make-up heavy around her eyes in order to hide
the bags beneath her eyes, acquired in the lounge.
Sat like we are, will fellow passengers picture us
as husband and wife? If they did, would you mind?
I can’t say that I would, it’s been years since I last
took a beautiful woman on holiday, anywhere,
and I’d be happy to take you everywhere.
Perhaps I’ll ask for your hand before we land.
Chichester, May 2017