The Hovercraft
In the distance, I spy its misty spray,
As it hovers over a sea of battleship grey.
Across The Solent, the hovercraft soars,
And I stand there watching it in total awe.
On the shingle shore, there gathers a crowd,
To welcome the hovercraft, with engines loud.
A sense of excitement fills the salty air;
At the approaching craft, I stand and stare.
As it reaches Southsea - its final destination,
The gathered crowd are full of fascination.
I've seen the hovercraft many times before,
But it seems to possess a magnetic draw.
Having left the sea full of salt,
Upon dry land, it draws to a halt.
The skirt of the craft soon deflates:
The air is expelled at a rapid rate.
Their short journey over, its passengers leave,
But the pilot has hardly any time to breathe.
Of passengers, there is a very quick turnaround,
And soon, once again, the craft is island bound.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Added by Poetry Lover
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