drift in the breeze
as Nature sings.
A few brave souls
who must be bright
have lofty goals
and claim the right
to leave safe ground
and seek the sky,
thus heaven-bound
they really fly.
Persistent rumour
says that a boy
with skill and humour
and special toy
can be a flyer
just like a bird.
Flies even higher
’til earth is blurred.
And spreads his wings
peers through dark shades
a king of kings,
an ace of spades.
II
On Friday though
his unknown past
comes as a blow,
an icy blast.
The years are catching
him in the act,
grey claws are snatching –
a secret pact!
Contrived in Hell,
to prove him fragile,
a wrinkled shell
still somewhat agile.
The forces fail,
they cannot ground him,
the sound of..’HAIL’,
from those around him.
Your muscles shrink
at the six…….o………,
you’re on the brink
to end the show.
Authorities
may think you’re lacking,
but no one sees
when you get cracking.
Through vertebral
manipulation,
your integral
co-ordination
keeps up-to-date,
stays sharp and smart.
A Pilot, mate
is no old Fart.