Squashed like a

sardine in a tin,

tension mounting

a women nagging 

babies crying

Once glamorous,

now routine,

air hostesses

sweating in their

square jackets.

mechanically

miming safety

code; eyes fixed

on sights unseen.

Elbows close

to our bodies

tense and waiting;

I pray that we

will not crash

in the Irish Sea

floating on a

raft is not right

for me.

New earplugs

squeezing my

pressured ears.

Plane vibrating;

seat belt tight;

plane in motion,

lifting slowly

up into the blue

blue sky.

Peering out

the porthole

a tiny boat I

spy and then,

out the corner

of my eye,

river snaking

under Tower

Bridge, Big Ben

shining and there’s

the London Eye!