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Maya Wilmshurst

My stomach drops and

The world falls away beneath me

Its majestic blues and greens

Like the splashes of colour on a painter’s palette.

The crisscrossing stripes lined with

Little dolls’ houses and toy cars.

The clouds close like the curtains on a grand stage

And suddenly my world is white

White cotton dances around me

Gracefully performing carefully prepared routines

The sun is the spotlight shining on the dancers

Its rays revealing the ravishing routine.

A noise drones on in my ears

Humming harshly like a swarm of bees

Punctuated by the constant murmur

Of parents chatting and children arguing.

It stops…

A static buzz sounds and a voice speaks out:

‘Prepare for landing.’