Rendezvous

We fight each other for the deckchairs on our modern Hindenburg.
We fly high above the London Eye. We think we are the world.
Our airship is bound for a Camelot we pretend and hope is real.
Lightning strikes. Our gondola burns. Everything goes bright. Then still.

2 thoughts on “Rendezvous

  1. Having just taken a cruise and seen the fights over deckchairs, the metaphor is not lost on me. I like to think of myself as realistically optimistic, but your last line strikes a solemn and too true chord with me.

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