Poem:
It's about time,
We followed the lead, in our prime,
The call that triggers our sixth sense
To unlock the latent mystery we can't sense.
I shout to brighten that path of regression,
Just for the course of women in aviation.
It's about time,
We rise to the creed of our hearts,
An abnegation of valour, a council of truce.
O indeed, I crave not for just excellent facts,
But to grace a ride on achievements in cruse.
A belly of potentials, that were harboured in time.
It's about time,
Your picture of greatness trampled on hopelessness
To gleam, glamour and clamour on merit,
The muscles that kicked out senselessness.
Verily! We have changed the game in multiple debit.
I knelt and prayed, we fled but stayed,
With the arrow that gauged the company you laid.
Against time we all spelt,
My dearest praise of grace we shall melt
Out the very crest without a dime,
But my friend, it's about time.
They call it Abingdon Co.
But then, I see it as the trace of perfection,
That brings out the hidden passion which we don't know.
Mine is to leave my quota, a proud woman of aviation.
