Postage Stamp in the Sea
As I stood at the bow of a sailing ship,
I was carefully scanning the sea.
Nostalgic thoughts caused me to yearn
On a carrier deck to be.
I was there in the pilots’ ready room,
Back aboard the ship again.
I could hear the voice on the speaker say,
“All pilots man your planes!”
To feel the thrust of the catapult,
Head firmly against the rest,
To attain in seconds a flying speed,
I have always been impressed.
Twas another time in another place
Some fifty years ago.
Directed down to that rolling deck
By a skillful LSO (Landing Signal Officer)
To land on that floating postage stamp
In the wilderness of the sea.
To abruptly stop when the tailhook caught
Arresting wire number three.
The youthful flyer is long gone now,
An old man stands in his place.
But features of the younger man show
Neath the wrinkles on his face.