The stunning Spitfire swiftly whirring over the land
screaming silent curses after battle.
The guns spray the bullets,
the whispers of death.
The propellers, powerful like a
tunnel-boring machine under ground.
The prodigious wings keeping
the spitfire airborne.
The spitfire glides flawlessly
into the unknown.
The wild wings slicing the air.
The killer propeller blades chop
aggressively at the night sky.
The rusted exhaust pipes spits smoke,
polluting the clean air.
The swift, agile spitfire glides
like an owl in the moonlight.
The invisible, tremendous propeller
blades whirring swiftly through the air.
The minuscule rear wheel assisting takeoff
and landing a loyal friend.
The black exhaust pipes leaving
a trail of smoke wherever it goes.