I am writing this poem from Djibouti where I arrived today at around 500:PM. We were at the airport in Mogadishu(in fact not an airport but a makeshift airstrip)from 8:00AM to 1:30 PM before we took off. Obviously were tired of sitting, yawning and yelling

We were tired of waiting for the plane
The plane was tired of flying too long
Passengers were tired of hectic flight
But when the plane touched the runway
None of the three felt tired anymore
The plane made a big sigh of relief
Arrivals scooped gallons of fresh air
Departures's faces beamed like a moon
They got injected with a renewed strenght
But tiredness didn't disappear for good
It had hid itself in the shadow of rest
Tiredness and Rest are two great rivals
They can't stay together in same place
They are like justice and injustice
When one comes the other goes in hiding
Justice and injustice can not reign at one time
Unless Justice is just a modified Injustice