Round and Round / Vikram Seth

After a long and wretched flight 
That stretched from daylight into night, 
Where babies wept and tempers shattered 
And the plane lurched and whiskey splattered 
Over my plastic food, I came 
To claim my bags from Baggage Claim 

Around, the carousel went around 
The anxious travelers sought and found 
Their bags, intact or gently battered, 
But to my foolish eyes what mattered 
Was a brave suitcase, red and small, 
That circled round, not mine at all. 

I knew that bag. It must be hers. 
We hadnt met in seven years! 
And as the metal plates squealed and clattered 
My happy memories chimed and chattered. 
An old man pulled it of the Claim. 
My bags appeared: I did the same.