Holy Flight

We were soaring high,

In the endless sky,

And I don’t know why,

I was worried by,

Sudden stopping to fly,

And we would die,

Falling, forever goodbye.


But I was given hope,

By a man who spoke,

Of the most Holy bloke,

On the plane, no joke,

And this awoke,

A feeling, a poke,

That we would not croak.


It was a sure sign,

We would be fine,

The Holy man’s shine,

Protected by the divine,

Had thrown me a line,

Sky no longer a mine,

No need for wine.


So it was a shock,

Landing, plane in dock,

Where waiting was a flock,

Of policemen to lock,

The man in holy frock,

Who would now take stock

For running sexually amok.


Next time in sky,

I will not be shy,

Take real valium pie,

And I will not rely,

On an unknown guy,

Who may be a lie,

Wrapped in Holy tie.

This entry was posted in Holiday, Poem, Travel and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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