airports departures and arrivals

i had the chance today
to send a friend away

to a faraway land
for a year to spend.

where might this country be?
its name is "Italy".

i hope this friend of mine
will find her peace of mind,

and excel in the path
chosen in the love

for fashion. and this
may well spell her bliss

for one whose life has been
a constant pummelling.

i bet she will astound
the people all around

the city with her wit
with interesting little bits.

and she may well find
herself adapt in time

to take the final test
and graduate the best.

i walked about the hall
and saw the people all

mill about in groups
seeking a place to suit

their weariness. but they
in "departures" seemed quite gay

gay -- as in "happy" --
not a guy who's "sappy" --

in pomp and gaiety
and the old ceremony

of advice before they left:
to not be simply heft

to some frail oblivion;
but shine as fair as zion!

their friends and family
would chide them merrily

and speak in tones earnest;
invariably, success was the urge.

i see departures, and i see hope.

then down three floors i loped

a monkey to behold;
and so the tale unfolds,

i came to the arrivals.
people walking in the aisles

and they looked kind of tired
as though they had just sired

our future national
malaysian team (it's football!)

their families were standing
in droves outside, wawiting

for the ordinary heroes
made of normal janes and joes

who travelled to foreign shores
and came back, all the more

richer, for the time
spent in foreign climes.

i saw hope in their returning
and i hope my friend is thinking

of returning to these shores:
this land of mouldy bores

and confusing politics
(can you say what it is?)