Aged 11, fed up shopping with Mum - why not hop on a plane to Rome!
The shops crowded with wandering women
Hot, sticky, boring uncool
'Why did I have to come with you mum?'
'Be quiet son we won't be long.'
He'd heard that one many times before
'But Mum......!' he whined
'I just want to look in here then we won't be long.'
Shuffles feet and plunges hands deep in pockets
Sighs dejectedly and gazes round
Signs to airport departure lounge are beckoning
He may be able to sit, wait and watch planes
Mum is engrossed in tops and frocks
Drawn by the idea of a comfy seat he goes
She doesn't know - didn't notice
Like the shops the place is crowded
Another's nice and about my age
A family in transit to the Italian capital
He followed the girl who kept smiling shyly
He walked through a gate like La Defense
She was so cheeky sticking her tongue out
Her Dad - come on we shouldn't be late
he followed closely surrounded by siblings
she kept moving in front
Down a corridor and into the metal cigar
He didn't notice - just had his seat
she was in the row in front
'Who are you with?'
Snatched back to reality - the fuss begins
I have chosen this form of poem, whatever it may be, because it felt right rather than use the more rigid forms I've experimented with in the past. Perhaps I've invented something new although the sheer randomness would suggest not. As a writer I wanted to try something different!