What Are Those? Poem by Vera Sidhwa

What are Those He Asked?


My plane descended very slowly.
It tilted it's left wing strongly.
Below me was a continuous carpet of light.
It was a Southern California night.

I asked the man seated next to me,
What are those that he sees?
He asked me back,
What are these?
He seemed in total confusion.

I asked Mr. Alva Edison,
To exchange seats with me.
In the window seat he looked avidly.
He didn't understand.

Mr. Edison sir,
It's your creation.
Down there it's in multiplication.
Mr. Edison asked, are those light-bulbs?