Planes on Parade The planes zipped by Bearing different flags. I gripped the control yoke, And remembered a girl named Mags. Her hair was yellow, Though it soon would turn to grey, And her eyes had a certain sparkle That I hoped would never fade away. I heard the gunshots Against the metal of my plane, And I had a nagging thought That I would never be the same. I heard a scream That I soon identified as mine, And looked down at my calf Which felt like it was on fire. I heard another gunshot Which came from the back of the plane, And I glanced back at my gunman Who would never look the same. His hands were bathed in red, The red that came from his neck, And he looked me in the eye As he fell out of the jet. I turned my attention back to steering That godforsaken aircraft. I managed to land on one of the bases Though the pain inside me was searing. They took me in to surgery Where they amputated my leg. Now flesh ends Right before the knee. I was fitted for a prosthesis Just a few hours ago, And I vow to lug the metal thing proudly Everywhere I go. #VeteransDay