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With your photographs of |
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Kitty Hawk |
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And the biplanes on your wall |
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You were always |
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Amy Johnson |
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From the time that you were small. |
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No schoolroom kept you grounded |
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While your thoughts could get away |
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You were taking off in |
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Tiger Moths |
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Your wings against the brush-strokes of the day |
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Are you there? |
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On the tarmac with the winter in your hair |
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By the empty hangar doors, you stop and stare |
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Leave the oil-drums behind you, they won't care |
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Oh, are you there? |
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Oh, you wrapped me up in a leather coat |
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And you took me for a ride |
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We were drifting with the tail-wind |
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When the runway came in sight |
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The clouds came up to gather us |
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And the cockpit turned to white |
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When I looked, the sky was empty |
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I suppose you never saw the landing-lights |
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Are you there? |
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In your jacket with the grease stain and the tear |
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Caught up in the slipstream of the dare |
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The compass rose will guide you anywhere, |
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Oh, are you there? |
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The sun comes up on |
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Icarus as the night-birds sail away |
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And lights the maps and diagrams |
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That Leonardo made |
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You can see |
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Faith, Hope and |
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Charity As they bank above the fields |
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You can join the flying circus |
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You can touch the morning air against your wheels |
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Are you there? |
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Do you have a thought for me that you can share? |
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Oh I never thought you'd take me unawares |
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Just call me if you ever need repairs |
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Oh, are you there? |
