The Aviator

    A pilot alone, stays close to his plane,
he looks and he listens, in his mind, he's a king,
he gives himself credit, for his times in the air,
the sky is the limit, the cool wind through his hair,
his tears have been silenced, he's spent from dispair,
his bones are all achey, his gloves are old, with a tear,
his plane is not the greatest,
he's tattered and torn,
he's seen younger days, his memory is poor,
exhausted from living, he still flies alone,
like a broken down hero, he hangs up his coat,
  He says " when my time is up, please send me afloat",
making his peace with God, no worry, no phret,
drifting away, into the sunset.