The Girl From Belfast

Christmas trees all around us and the silence
of annoyed, nervous, excited people checking in
to another world. What’s this smile of yours,
while you fiddle with your white British warm
and your brown curly hair falls over your eyes?

Half ten is when the end will clock in,
it leaves an hour to our small world spent
walking through a crowd. Another smile
as you browse through women’s magazines.
There’s not much to share – the innocent affection,
mystery of why it happened, and happiness that it did.

The plane to Belfast is now ready to be boarded.
Please would all passengers go to gate two
and have their boarding pass and passport ready.

It’s a trivial eulogy to our life – suddenly
there’s no us. Please give me one last smile
Nichelle before you go, I want to remember you

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