Amelia
Amelia
Somewhere a fin on a lazy sea
And a broken prop on a coral key,
Somewhere a dawn whose morning star
Must etch dim light on a broken spar,
Somewhere a twilight that cannot go
Till it kisses the surf with afterglow;
But here, only silence and weary eyes
And an empty hangar and empty skies.
Somewhere the toss of a tousled head
In the secret of the angels overhead,
Somewhere a smile that would never fade
As the score reversed in the game she played,
Somewhere a spirit whose course held true
To do the thing that it wished to do;
But here, only silence and weary eyes
And an empty hangar and empty skies.
—Gill Robb Wilson, 1938
Excerpted from Leaves From An Old Log (American Aviation Associates, 1938).
Home page image: "Wegbereiter Ikarus," print, woodblock on paper, by Wilhelm Geissler, 1966. (Courtesy NASM)