Flying Sorcery - Al Stewart, Peter White

With your photographs of Kitty Hawk

And the biplanes on your wall

You were always Amy Johnson

From the time that you were small

No schoolroom kept you grounded

While your thoughts could get away

You were taking off in Tiger Moths

Your wings against the brush-strokes of the day

Are you there?

On the tarmac with the winter in your hair

By the empty hangar doors, you stop and stare

Leave the oil-drums behind you, they won’t care

Oh, are you there?

Oh, you wrapped me up in a leather coat

And you took me for a ride

We were drifting with the tail-wind

When the runway came in sight

The clouds came up to gather us

And the cockpit turned to white

When I looked, the sky was empty

I suppose you never saw the landing-lights

Are you there?

In your jacket with the grease stain and the tear

Caught up in the slipstream of the dare

The compass rose will guide you anywhere

Oh, are you there?

The sun comes up on Icarus as the night-birds sail away

And lights the maps and diagrams

That Leonardo made

You can see Faith, Hope and Charity

As they bank above the fields

You can join the flying circus

You can touch the morning air against your wheels

Are you there?

Do you have a thought for me that you can share?

Oh I never thought you’d take me unawares

Just call me if you ever need repairs

Oh, are you there?