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?