Ode to an Aviator
Tarnished wings on a leather jacket
battered flight bag in his hands
burned in lines around the eyes
shows any one who cares to notice,
this man flies.

As a young boy, barely ten
spinning dreams as all boys do
watching contrails in the sky
dreaming how when he grows up
he'll learn to fly.

Young and willing, off to war
as so many have gone before
and as he watched his young friends die
he paid the price he had to pay
to learn to fly

All around the world he flew
no chains could ever hold him down
seeking perfection in the sky
to be among the very best
of those who fly

With his log book finally filled
he stood by patient at the gate
St. Peter looked into tired eyes
Said let him in, he's one of us,
Lord this man flies

Rock Lyons 1972