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Writer's pictureshsimages

Gate A47 | Laura Mo (11)

Updated: Jan 11

It is still clean cut, from the many years ago,

Although the employer did somehow manage

To tear it quite poorly

Over the very clear,

Enunciated,

Dotted line.


Looking at it incites nausea –

A dizzying,

Turbulent,

Take-off,

Its memory scattered by

The damp and unappetizing

Meals, somehow given

Unironically

By the apparently oblivious airline.


Looking at it ignites heartache –

A dejecting,

Tearful,

Leave,

Its reminiscence decorated by

The dreadful and guilty

Hugs, somehow given

Unironically

By a conflicted, past me.


But most triumphantly, looking at it kindles comfort –

A tender,

Fond,

Embrace,

Its recollection pointing at

The passionate and heartfelt

Moments with a million arrows, undoubtedly given

Authentically

By my sincere, cherished family.


I lift my head, said boarding pass in hand,

Facing the place I’d betrayed,

Eager to inhale the fresh aromas of the family recipes

Eager to hear the constant chatter of the younger cousins

Eager to lay foot on the impeccable but slightly old, wooden floors

Once again.

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