Six and a half miles high,
We are here touching the sky,
The United Kingdom passes away,
Towards Europe we go.
The above ever blue,
The below a blanket of white,
The wings the only breaking grey,
The clouds staked like hay.
How far have we come,
That a simple metal,
Can climb into the sky,
And wave the ground good bye.
Well I will meet the UK again,
Come two weeks,
Life must re-begin'
And my holiday come to an end.
©The Pesky Poet
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