It happened a few years ago on a bright, and cloudless day;
a strange event that touched me, at a famous Air Display.
I was an aircraft Marshall; wearing overalls of white;
shepherding aircraft on the ground... directing left and right.
When marshalling a Spitfire down the Peri-track, you see...
the pilot has no forward vision... so; alert you have to be;
and get in close... so he can see you guide him safely to the pan;
five feet away... a twelve foot prop whirling in the sun.


It's dangerous stuff... make no mistake; as I direct him round,
then, stand before the screaming prop, before he shuts her down.
Completed post-flight checks... thumbs up; the mags are both unlatched,
and I relax... but, then I feel that I am being watched.
I turn, and gaze across the field; and there... the far crowd line;
a solitary Lady, with a smile, soft and benign...
beckoning;
I check... all clear; the overhead display
will last at least ten minutes...
so, I turn, and walk her way.


As I approach this Lady, it is evident to me,
though she is slim and elegant... she's in her seventies;
and, though her face is softly lined; her coiffure, snowy white...
what strikes me, are her Emerald eyes...
so young and clear and bright.
She said, "Young man, I' m sorry; but, I really had to know...
I've watched you guide the Spitfires in... like we did, long ago.
You see, I was a WAAF at seventeen; a Spit', my first love flew...
The strangest thing is that he really looked a lot like you."


I gazed into those Emerald eyes so full of memories,
"He was shot down, and never found." She whispered, soft, to me.
"But, that was all so long ago, it's truly just my silly whim...
forgive me, but you really do look such a lot like him."
A Spitfire roared low overhead... she glanced up to the skies,
and in that moment, I could swear the tears shone in her eyes.
She rummaged in her handbag and withdrew a faded tissue fold...
pressing it into my hand, with stare so proud and bold.


"For you," she whispered softly... "It's just a memory thing..."
unwrapped, and shining in the sun... Royal Air Force Pilot's Wings.
"I can't take these, I'm not entitled..."
"Oh, yes you are... of that I'm sure;"
she said with a tiny, secret smile... a smile I'd seen somewhere before.
And then, the strangest happening... a bolt out of the blue...
"Frances?..." I spoke an unknown name; that smile again... "lt's true...
that is my name."
Confused, I said... "Did we once meet somewhere? Perhaps, some time ago?"
she smiled,
"Not in THIS life of yours... but, you're my David... this, I know."


This is too weird... a sudden shout across the field..."Hey, Dave... You're on..."
I turn; a Mustang firing up... I turn again... and she is gone.
Collect the senses; guide him out... he's clear... now, try to think it through;
it's just too weird... how could she know?
And how... did I know her name, too?
Reincarnation of a dead love?... vain illusion... fatuous stuff.
And yet, who knows the final secrets? Get a grip... that's quite enough.
Yet, looking at those Pilot's Wings, remembering that lovely face;
perhaps, I'll find those Emerald eyes...
in another time...
in another place.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This belongs in the Extremely weird, and totally unbelievable category. It actually happened at a Great Warbirds Airshow in the UK, in September 2003... exactly as I've versed it.
It was so weird, I had to weave a poem around it.
I still go cold, just reading the poem.
Make of it what you will...
but, I still have those Pilot's Wings.