Sonnet

An Airplane's Milleu

One hour to go toward Tokyo's distant shore,
The engines drone, the cabin dim with dreams;
At five they wake us, though the night holds more,
To bring a meal less grand than it first seems.
A wan, small sausage leans on omelette fold,
With beans that slumber in their shallow heat;
A muffin whispers apple, faint and old,
While melon and pineapple fill the treat.
A cup of coffee follows on the tray,
A small bottle of water goes beside;
As if our fares don't warrant more display,
Not scraps that mock the price we must abide.
   Oh business seats, where richer plates are laid,
   How far from thee my humble place is stayed.


2026.04.21