Today I was at the airport Arrivals.

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.

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