Shot Down

A little older than most of the poems in this vein. 25 Sep 2006.

I've been shot down
So many times.

Is it too much to ask
For just one person
Who won't get my hopes up
And then remove the wings
That I'm flying on?

Every single time
Something seems to be
Going in the right direction
Fate takes up a storm
And strikes me from the sky.

Someday I'm going to stop
Bailing out; someday I'm going
To ride the remains of my craft
Straight upon the rocks
So I never have to fall again.

And yet despite all the pain,
I find myself once again drifting
A current on the open ocean
Still imagining I can fly again
That I'll allow myself to care.

There's always the far shore
Sunset crimson and violet
Where I'm sure there's someone
Waiting at the fields where
I someday wish to land.

But still I don't think
That I'll ever see the clouds
Fade in favour of the argent sun
That I'll ever be free of wandering
The greying skies of autumn.

So promise me this -
That you'll at least be
The one I can come home to
The one waiting with outstretched arms
For a chilled and weary warrior.

And I promise you -
That I'll never pine for
A foreign girl I've never seen
And I can keep on flying
Purely for memory of you.