The Airport

Full of people, a multitude,
Nice and kind, boorish, rude.
A song of tears and vicissitude,
Of lonely businessmen's solitude.

The thrusting of engines across the sky
A hug, a kiss, a sad goodbye
Bustling groups like random swirls
Paupers, millionaires, little girls.

The metal beast, home of planes,
Swallows up the city lanes.
Within its halls are concealed,
A myriad of memories, carefully sealed.

Lost luggage, security and coffee shops,
Sleepers in halls patrolled by cops,
Clutched suitcases, firmly clamped
In hands of people, tiredness stamped.

Late night travelers, families,
People worrying about their keys.
Vacations, business flights, always more
As white wings in the sky, they roar.