But I'm so old I know I'm never gonna be.
My old A2 hangs in the closet there
Languishing for want of wear.
I no longer look anything like dashing,
And only in highway's traffic face fears of crashing.
But my wannabe pilot's heart stays strong,
And stirs each time I hear an airplane's song.
I may have missed my chance on this side of the sunset,
But out there where the old pilots live on, I'll bet
The chance to fly awaits me yet.
[An "A2" is a leather flight jacket worn by military pilots during World War II, and still issued to Air Force pilots today.]
--Mary-Helen is the poet in the family (see her blog: http://ourwaywithwords.blogspot.com), but sometimes I try.
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