Poems- Not your own.

[skysidhe]

I really don't know all that much. I am sure Brianna is the knowlegable one. I think we can agree on that.
The Day Flies off without Me.
by John Stammers

The planes bound for all points everywhere
etch lines on my office window. From the top floor
London recedes in all directions, and beyond:
the world with its teeming hearts.
I am still, you move, I am a point of reference on a map;
I am at zero meridian as you consume the longitudes.
The pact we made to read our farewells exactly
at two in the afternoon with you in the air
holds me like a heavy winter coat.
Your unopened letter is in my pocket, beating.