After a long and wretched flight <br />That stretched from daylight into night, <br />Where babies wept and tempers shattered <br />And the plane lurched and whiskey splattered <br />Over my plastic food, I came <br />To claim my bags from Baggage Claim <br /> <br />Around, the carousel went around <br />The anxious travelers sought and found <br />Their bags, intact or gently battered, <br />But to my foolish eyes what mattered <br />Was a brave suitcase, red and small, <br />That circled round, not mine at all. <br /> <br />I knew that bag. It must be hers. <br />We hadnt met in seven years! <br />And as the metal plates squealed and clattered <br />My happy memories chimed and chattered. <br />An old man pulled it of the Claim. <br />My bags appeared: I did the same.<br /><br />Vikram Seth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/round-and-round/
