Planes Passing By

I lie on my bed and I look at the sky,
Watching the passage of planes passing by.
They follow each other with minutes between,
And sometimes the moonlight reflects off their sheen.
But always their lights flash, and mark where they are,
Creamish and ed, not the white of a star.
They're so far away, not a sound can be heard
They traverse the sky like an over-sized bird.
And I think of the people criss-crossing the skies,
And all the adventures their travel implies.