invisible

Along the seat-aisle of the jumbo-jet,
As though this weren't the first time we had met,
Her smile advances. Jauntily tipped up,
A navy-blue sailor's hat and in her hand
Whisky-and-water in a plastic cup.

"It's very wide", she says, "a heath-like land
And the light like a Fra Angelico." So shy
Her side-slipped smile and her chuckle shadowed by
Regret not sooner to have helped one there.

"Why not write me a letter," cheekily I say,
"Giving, with pictures, details of your air?"

"Why not," she answers, "join me right away?"

Outside, below eye-level darkly spread,
The cloud-sea pinks with morning's rising red.

"I have terrible jet-lag. Dopey, I can't even
Sneak into my daughter's dream." She is close to tears.

Through the window, slowly, nerve-wracked into heaven,
With her cap and her plastic cup, she disappears.