To Somebody's Chest

I want my name writ large on a card
that beckons us to somebody's chest
in the welcoming crowd of drivers
by an airport's busy exit doors.

And they will guide us through the jostle
to heat outside and comfort of cool car,
asking, Did you have a good trip?
And I reply, Yes, sorry to be late.

And we will glide through exotic streets,
native music carousing in the background,
admiring palm trees and anything ramshackle,
to the house where foreigners clean our rooms.

Straight to the pool we go, still in suits.
Stooping, I put one hand in water,
smiling up at you, then clutch in a warm hug,
You holding the greet sign blagged from the driver,

just now, do I notice, wrongly spelt.

Clive Donovan
 
If you have any thoughts about this poem, Clive Donovan  would be pleased to hear them