In Transit

Cris-crossing planes
Soar so high;
At their level,
You forget why:
On your way
To pastures new,
Seeking something
Better to do.

Now in transit
As midday fades,
Your body-clock
At last gives way.
In your aisle seat
With eyes shut tight –
Willing time to
Spur this flight.

And as you begin,
Nerves set in:
You fear the cost of a fall –
But in the end,
You’ll comprehend:
You can’t win ‘em all.

The night before
A tear slipped out;
You held on and
Voiced your doubts.
Kissing them up
I pulled you near –
And told you to
Embrace your fears.

Hindsight tells you
Then was better;
Selling souvenirs
Or vintage sweaters.
But once you land
You’ll start to see
That Now lies in
New York City.

And as you get in,
Nerves rescind:
Your fears are fallow to all –
As in the end,
You comprehend:
“I can’t win ‘em all.”