Old Airfield

I lie here still, beside the hill,

Abandoned long to nature’s will,

My buildings down, my people gone,

My only sounds, the wild birds’ song.

But my mighty birds will rise no more,

No more I hear the Merlin’s roar,

And never now my bosom feels,

The pounding of their giant wheels.

From the ageless hill their voices cast,

Thunderous echoes from the past,

And still in lonely reverie,

Their great dark wings sweep down to me.

Laughter, sorrow, hope and pain,

I shall never know these things again,

Emotions that I came to know,

Of strange young men, so long ago.

Who knows as evening shadows meet,

Are they still with me, a phantom fleet,

And do my ghosts still stride unseen,

Across my face, so wide and green.

And in the future, should structures tall,

Bury me beyond recall,

I shall still remember them,

My metal birds, and long-dead men.

Now, weeds grow high, obscure the sky,

Oh remember me when you pass by,

For beneath this tangled leafy screen,

I was your home, your friend, Silksheen.