Queen of the Boneyard

From a distance away, I can spot a proud tail fin, Standing upright among A sea of dull metals. As I approach, it’s evident that Here rests the Queen. The pinnacle of aviation. The game-changer for aviation. The tried-and-true Boeing 747. You stand proud and tall, Among other Smaller, Slower airliners. Your presence silences the boneyard Into deep awe. The disdainful rust is only a reminder Of your free years, Taxiing graciously like a swam, Blasting out of the airport Like an unleashed missile. You were unstoppable, Your postures wowed the Thousands of plane-spotters. You are the beauty, the royalty 38000 feet up. You are a safe fortress, For however many passengers that you took in, You let that many out. Safe and sound. You achieved something so amazing, That aviation itself is changed: With merely 4 engines, And a pair of gracious angel-wings, You connected the world. You are the role-model for the future, the true Queen of the Skies. Yet, here you stay, After decades of service, wistfully among other aircrafts. Airbus 300? DC-8? They aren’t even close to matching Your legacy, your glamour. Yet here you stay. Gathering dust, Being picked apart. The airlines who claimed to be proud to have you, All forgotten about you. But I haven’t. And plane-spotters haven’t. And pilots haven’t. All those memories, Pictures of the soaring heavy, Fresh and vivid. There, you will remain forever, The way you were, The Queen of the Skies.