The author in the cockpit of an aircraft all once to familiar to him.
Disused
Airfield - 65 years on
The
loose door flaps on rusted hinge. Forgotten paintings moulder to oblivion on the
flaking walls and through the shattered panes the sadness of vanished laughter
silently reminds me. This is where they all lived before death, where their last
earthbound smile was seen; where their sadness, happiness, and love flamed and
sputtered.
Now
the dull, steaming cattle crop the wet grass where the aircraft waited -
aircraft long burned and shattered in flaring, searing skies, and fields. Over
65 years have slipped away, whilst we, the living, are as these crumbling
huts in a deserted field, ravaged by time.
Reflecting on the passing of our friends, Mungo, and Jimmy, Cobber, and young Tim, and so many more - and we were all so young. Through dangers to the heavens they flew from these quiet corners; now the lowing cattle linger amidst their shades.
Remember. lest we
forget - For our tomorrow they gave their today.
Douglas
Tidy
