TURBULENCE
Type:
Author:
Poem:		58949
We say "Adios Espana" From our aeroplane On the runway I gaze through the windowpane And you complain That I always get the window seat As we accelerate you profane Under the strain I whisper "there are kids nearby" You spit that I am a pain And that I should refrain From breathing Instead I try to entertain And attempt to explain The development of Whittle's jet engine You quickly obtain A bag to contain Your imaginary vomit I try to ascertain If you plan to maintain This level of hostility towards me You say you must have been insane To holiday with such an idiot But I think you enjoyed it In the main
Copyright belongs to author.  Poems forbidden from being copied and used for commercial purposes without the written consent of the author.