War Games

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Three TU-95s,

Proudly announcing,

Their arrival,

With droning,

Moaning,

Turbines,

Heard for miles.

A flying fossil,

One should not sleep-on,

And is impossible to ignore-

You’ve already heard it,

Long before,

It’s dropped its ordinance.

Four engines- eight props,

Send “The Bear,”

Roaring through the sky,

To survey the territory.

Edging up,

To other’s airspace,

It’s the same old song and dance,

As six cutting-edge stealth-jets,

escort the old Bear,

back from whence it’s came,

Just stopping by to say “hello,”

And keep you on your toes.

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