The return

He was a pilot.

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An acclaimed one.

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He knew his job.

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He takes passengers

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From one place,

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To the other.

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He had a wife.

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3 Sons.

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And a pet pig.

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He had promised,

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He had promised to return -

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Fully -

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When he’ll be 50.

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At that age,

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He’d have his last flight.

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”All aboard,”

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He said,

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”Today would be my last flight.

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See,

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I had promised

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My kids

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That I will return the day

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I turn 50.

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I promised to

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Bring them something

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When I return.

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And now -

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Now‘s my birthday…

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So,

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Enjoy your flight.”

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People have tried to come and

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Reach him,

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To tell him about their stories.

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Of drowning and work

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Without being with their kids,

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And how dearly this miss them.

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How deeply their regret is,

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Stained in their DNA.

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How he should run and hug

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His kids - how old are they?

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In their 20’s?

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And what’s that thing you

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Promised to give them?

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”The oldest - 20,

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Then the middle one - 15,

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And the youngest- well, he’s 11.

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And what I promised

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to give them -

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Is for their eye, only…”

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”Oh, late fatherhood, is it?

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And - ok, understood.

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Don’t tell us.“ They blinked.

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(Whatever for God knows.)

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“Go, go and hug them!

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Give them a proper surprise!”

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He returned,

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And gave them

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That old postcard

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With the photo

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Of the plane that they liked,

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With greetings on its’

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Back,

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From when Liam was 10, Don

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Was 5, and Bob was 1 year old.

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On it,

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A drawing of them on

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adventures

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And a list of plans,

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Plus the words,

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”I’ll be back…”

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