|
|
|
Epitome
By S.A. Connor (lsi02@aol.com)
Epitome
To Boots and Fireballs--
We raise our glass;
Part of the ritual,
Part of the sky-
To Boots and Fireballs--
Disbelieve the dirt
Rushing up
Reach for the blue,
Dodge the cotton-candy clouds--
Destination and Whereabouts unknown!
To Boots and Fireballs--
Who knows what
the wind-swept trees yield?
Blooded wings
And wounded mystics
Flicker no flame;
Sail onward still-
To Boots and Fireballs--
Disbelieve the dirt
They're shoveling in
Reach for the blue
Dodge the cotton-candy clouds--
Destination and Whereabouts unknown!
To Boots and Fireballs--
We raise our glass;
Part of the ritual,
Part of the sky-
To Boots and Fireballs!
Author's Note: This poem was written during the author's service in the U. S. Air Force and was
dedicated to a student pilot who was killed in an aircraft accident. The boots refer to when we,
as new recruits at Officer Training School, were ordered to remove our boots so that our foot-
prints could be taken. When asked why, a sergeant responded with: "When you guys (pilots &
navigators) buy the farm (crash), the only thing that is left is shit and shoes- this is how the
Air Force identifies your remains."
Back to Poetry Index
|
