Across the Ocean
Beyond the horizon my eyes scanned the seas,
and my thoughts were astir with some old memories.
Of those long ago days in those far away places,
are forgotten so many of the names and their faces.
I remember the launches and the landings I made.
The memory of flying I never would trade.
No garden, no flowers, no landscape no tree,
but the ship was our refuge, it was home on the sea.
On that small postage stamp which we all called our home
we took off and landed through the spume and the foam
In a war and the threat of a treacherous sea,
there was solace and comfort in the comeraderie
There will always be things that we cannot forget.
After fifty odd years, I remember them yet.
The relationships welded with a bondage so strong,
a brotherhood to which all pilots belong.
As I look through the window at the smooth, placid sea,
many unrecalled visions there never will be.
In the ensuing years most of them were deleted
so I cherish those images that can be repeated.