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Flights have landed, Terminal three,
Boeings park, their passengers free
for the UK Border formality,
on and out to the concourse’ sea.


A sea of human populace,
with stoic resignation, face
yet another day, yet another place.
Just another assignation;
Just another destination.


But – others come!
Faces blank, intently searching,
Family, friends, somewhere lurking.
Unspoken communication,
Recognition: trepidation.
Formal. Frantic.
Bewildered. Bored.
Excitement mounts, or surfaced fears,
upbeat smiles: over-spilling tears.
Hugs and kisses, Men and Misses,
now content: or embarrassment!


But this tide of human emotion,
hearts and souls all in commotion
is just another day, you see,
For Duty Staff , Terminal Three.




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The following comments are for "Terminal Three"
by Sercombe





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