Her eyes focused <br />into a cabin full of suits, <br />mothers and daughters <br />returning from the funerals <br />of corporate meetings. <br /> <br />They're the only ones <br />who'll fly to Baltimore <br />this time of year. <br /> <br />And I sit <br />staring out the window. <br />My reflection gazing in. <br /> <br />Thoughts are absorbed into the thick plastic <br />and fly past the wingtip, <br />into the stratosphere, <br />then out to space. <br /> <br />Just a few hours <br />until landing <br />on your pillow. <br /> <br />Until then <br />I imagine <br />the last time I saw you <br />on my own pillow <br />beneath me.<br /><br />Erica Francis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wingtip/
