This place is where I go,
To fly to work each week...
It’s a very busy place,
And the people so unique...
All have a destination,
Whether work or if it's play...
Always in a rush,
And not a lot to say...
You check in all your baggage,
When they allocate your seat...
Then you head in through security,
Before the shows complete...
So you finally reach the lounge,
That’s when you sit and wait...
It doesn’t matter when you get there,
As the flight is always late...
Some people read the paper,
While waiting for the cal...
Others like to sleep,
On the lounges in the hall...
When you hear those noisy chimes
A voice rings in your ears...
It’s time to board your flight
As the crowds soon disappears...
You shuffle to and fro,
Jostling for position...
Sometimes to get on board,
Can really be a mission...
Then when you get into your seat,
Your own bit of real estate...
You’re hoping that your neighbour,
Is someone you won’t hate...
You just want to sit there quietly,
And enjoy that window view...
Just admiring all the clouds,
That you go passing threw...
It seems a short time later,
That your journey nears an ends...
As the landing wheels are lowered,
Then the plane gradually descends...
Then it’s off into the airport,
To the baggage station...
You made it here alive,
You have reached your destination...
Len Newey 2012