The gates now closed on an era long
and minds drift on to friends now gone,
of memories, lived in other times
of olden songs and distant rhymes.
The thoughts of runways long and clean
now holed, broken, and patched with green
of hangars tall and kept with pride
no longer used, so bare inside.
The planes whose engines used to roar
that once took off, return no more
where oft’ they taxied, to fly away
now looked upon another day
Of men and women that would strive
in days gone by, to keep alive
the heart that beat for all to see,
gone forever, but not the memory.
To look across that field so bare,
to wish, to think, to say a prayer
for to forget them would be so wrong
for the heart may have stopped, but the soul lives on.
Copyright © Mike Hillier 1990 to 2000