Poem: ‘Comfortably Numb’ Plays While I Stare Out The Window at The Wing of a Plane

A poem about listening to Pink Floyd from a great height, having a think…

7am, and a clear blue sky — and you
are on my mind again, Richard.

So many have asked what you’d
make of the poems I’m writing.

I’ve said, so often now, you’d be chuffed,
stoked; just not bothered at all. I’m almost

starting to believe myself, my face almost
touching the frame of the windows

of the plane. David Gilmour’s
guitar solo hitting like the sun.