Here’s to the doormen,
The porters, the waiters,
The plumbers, the cabbies,
The exterminators…
Here’s to the teachers,
The nannies, the nurses,
Performers and artists
And writers of verses…
Here’s to the athletes,
The mailmen, reporters,
The chefs and the police force
And climate supporters…
Here’s to the builders
And tour guides and cleaners
And research assistants
And medical screeners…
Here’s to repairmen
And bakers and drivers
And farmers and shepherds
And all of the strivers
Who put in the effort,
Most times, to the letter,
To help make our lives
(And their own) so much better.
This is how an airport feels -
Crowded, hot and teeming.
Lines that wrap around and ‘round;
Babes and toddlers screaming.
Masks on every face except
So many noses showing
And no one to remind them of what
They should all be knowing.
Screeners who take pleasure in
Enthusiastic groping.
Stressed out families schlepping
So much stuff they’re barely coping.
Loud announcements reinforce
The social distance ruling;
Gazing at the hordes you wonder
If they might be fooling.
Get on board and find a seat
And finally, you’re flying.
If you can, you calm yourself;
Believe me - I am trying.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.