Today, I was at the airport Arrivals.
And I think it’s a place I should visit more often.
For, believe me, it’s a sight for sore eyes.
The sight, for instance, of a little brother,
Fifty five, if he was a day – bending
To hug his big brother who was wheeled in
By his balding son.
Or the eight feet tall guy, with herculean shoulders
And designer beard, pacing – his eyes scanning
The ones and two that trickle out of the exit
In his hands, a coquettish bunch of red carnations.
Oh it’s a sight one shouldn’t miss.
Or the young weary mother, her hair disheveled,
Handing over the bundle in her arms
To the eager young father, looking at it in wonder,
His wide smile stays on, while hers fades out
Exhaustion of a birth and care taking over.
Or the lanky, handsome young man with long hair
His swaggering confidence right out of a self-help book,
Walking over to the waiting chauffer, claiming,
“Hi I’m Nelson, I think you’re looking for me.”
Oh it’s a sight that brings a smile.
Yesterday might have broken a heart,
And tomorrow would certainly break its promise
But right then, right there, it was just smiles, hugs and
A whole lot of love.