A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
I love the airport.
Busy ones – of course.
The feeling of community
With the shared discomfort of travel
Among so many strangers.
watching the people go by
And seeing the differences,
And trying to guess
Where that running man in uniform could be going
Or why that girl is crying so hard.
Sometimes I wish
I could sit in an airport all day
And capture the unique faces
In a drawing,
In a non-creepy way – of course.
I could do without the flying though.