One starlit night I had a dream,
Of pilots long ago,
Who were those flyers of time gone by,
That taught me what I know.
And of their ships in which they flew,
That spawned from cloth and wood,
A thousand questions fill my mind,
I’d ask them if I could.
What was it like, that magic time,
You soloed long ago,
Were you as scared as I was when,
I sneaked a look below.
And did you bargain with the Lord,
That day you left the ground,
You’d change your ways for evermore,
To get down safe and sound.
What was it like, to steer a Spad,
When first you flew in battle,
How did you feel, when from behind,
You heard machine guns rattle.
When war was done, you flew the mail,
Through snow and sleet and rain,
It must have been a joyous time,
When first you beat the train.
And when you took that gas-filled ship,
Off mud, gouged deep with ruts,
To Paris gay, across the sea,
Oh “Lindy”, you had guts.
Your valor shone a second time,
When war came marching back,
What were your thoughts the nights you rode,
A bomber bathed in flak.
Or when you nursed a crippled ship
To safety, back from hell,
I dearly wish I could have heard
The stories you would tell.
And when they gave you hats and ties,
Along with routes and rules,
I wish I’d seen the teacher’s face,
When your bunch went to school.
The good old days are gone, I know,
I wish I’d been there yet.
When pilots flew by seat of pants,
And records not been set.
But yesterday a biplane touched
Beside me on the clover,
And in my heart, I quietly thought
Just maybe it’s not over.
by Patrick J. Phillips
