The Helicopter

A Poem by The Nameless

I lay on the grass, staring at the sky
With a few small clouds passing by
Besides a few birds, the afternoon was silent
Completely relaxed, peaceful and quiet

And then I frowned as I heard the drill
The sound that made my picture ill
Soon the black figure appeared
And through the puffy clouds it sheared

It moved slowly through the sky
As if, for this beauty, it took its time
As if the sun burnt its metal, smooth
And this is all that can help to soothe

I stared at it, but found no eyes
No window to its soul, I surmised
But how could I ever know
If there is more to show?

The drill an endless cry for help
And the rotors a waving for attention
If only someone ever felt
The pain it can never mention

The helicopter and its pilot
Depend on each other for life
The pilot is its only friend
The helicopter his only time content

I stared as it disappeared
And left no trace that it had been here
But I could still hear its drill
And I think I always will