Silver Wings

Silver wings:

A year of work to get this little pin.

Early early bus every morning for a month,

riding down to Eloy to fly T-41s.

Under the hood with John Hanna in the T-37,

finally soloed in the T-38.

Touch-and-goes, acro and four-ship,

Aero and Engines by programmed text,

sweating  PT in the hot desert sun,

classes every day the Air Force way.

Silver wings:

But why am I doing this? Why do I care?

Do I really want to win the war?

Bomb villages? Rain death? Kill people?

who want to be free

just like me…

Silver wings:

Thank you mother, for pinning them on.

Daddy standing by, smiling and quiet.

Stewart, Bob, Linda and Gene, too.

They drove a thousand miles, camping all the way,

just to see me put these little wings on.

Silver wings:

I don’t want to go where you’ll take me

But how can I even think of anything else,

with everyone so proud, thinking I’m so great!

I can’t let them down.

It just seems wrong, but do I have a choice?