fear of flying

Written by: jan oskar hansen

Fear of Flying

It was a clear, cold day the sun was a sad 
decoration vanity at its worst.
The sky was like after shave lotion with 
a tinge of blue which stung a shaved face 
with frosty bitterness. 
I saw Amelia Earhart´s aircraft disappear 
in the distance, only a doleful echo told me 
of a tragedy about to happen… 
On a lost atoll a bottle of aftershave balm
glints in the sun, perhaps belonging to her 
navigator, as does a diamond earring that
shines pitifully on the clarity of gilded sand.
Look up on a still, pale day  and you will see 
her little airplane forever disappearing into 
a hazy past of remembered dreams.