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First FlightStill I can remember my maiden flight From our small town to the vibrant city Sunrays filtering through the glass window Your gleaming face in the afternoon glow. The long mountain range seen in the north east Amidst ocean of flaky stagnant clouds You could trace the meandering river below Map the winding railway track down under. Sleek interior and toothy smile of cabin crew In comfort of your seat armed with pillow The strong smell of your woolen orange shawl And the sound of long screaming shouts inside. As I take off for my new destination every time Still return in torrents the aroma of your presence Departed long back; those finer differences Your face now makes you one of the milling crowds. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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