Transit - A very first English Poem by Atif Malik
Lying on a bench at the airport I am half asleep half awake An eye closed, the other on the bag Am I sleeping or is it all fake Sitting at the airport, I wait for the next flight Tired, sleepy, sleepless, it has been a long night Sitting on the bench on my side, Two old parents on a stride, To meet their son who left ages ago Ages ago for the future to be bright Afraid, they are afraid I can see they are afraid For them airport is a strange place Noisy, bright, engulfed with a fright Agony written on the face Sitting in a miserable plight Like me Waiting for their next flight When is the next flight? With sleepy eyes, I see a group of teenage girls They giggle and their wings flutter The next flight has no meaning for them Nothing for them is a shack They giggle as they can bring a flying machine back With closed eyes, I hear shouts And the electronics boards shroud When is the next flight? The next flight will take off at its time Not earlier, not later, a...