The Thinking Sapling

Author’s Note: This was just me venting about how uncomfortable I was on a plane and choosing to express my feelings through writing on my phone. Maybe I’ll write more random stuff like this.

There’s a low ceiling and hard chairs.
I’m stuck in a tin can in the air.
A few hours, it says, and we’ll be there.
Yet, the hours stretch beyond compare.

There are tight spaces and unaligned windows.
The hard seats make comfort dwindle.
Legs are never comfortable, no room to stretch.
I’m stuck in the air, an experience so wretched.

Music and amusement are things that pass.
The same old songs get boring fast.
To read requires that my head doesn’t hurt.
To sleep requires a missing comfort.

The sound of sliced air prevents a calm silence.
The foot of the leg room is a grave pittance.
There’s low chatter and occasional movement.
Oh, will the world kindly skip a few moments?

Time has slowed,d and it’s not fair.
Why am I stuck in a tin can in the air?
The last few minutes stretch beyond compare
Why is it taking so long? There are buildings right there!