I’ve gone to where she lives, again.

I should be at work, I told them that I am sick. Well I am, of sorts… I suppose.

I can’t help myself, I can’t explain it. I can’t stay away.

I loved her from the first moment that I saw her. I cannot stop, it never fades. The years have fallen away leaving us older, but no wiser and I love her today as I did back then. More so; My love for her deepens each and every time that I see her.

I stand and wait for her to appear, patiently, hands thrust deep into my coat pockets, rocking gently upon the balls of my feet. The door is opening; I will see her soon, my beloved! The nervous excitement builds low in my stomach tingling, fizzing – I want another piss, I’m a schoolboy again, I squirm.

I hear her voice… my chest swells, filling with joyful expectation.

She comes through the doorway, lithe, slender and looking good today, looking gorgeous today. I was ready with the camera but I fumbled it, I cannot bear to look at her through the lens lest it desensitises my vision. I want to run my naked eyes across her pure form, unfiltered, unhindered.

With a twitch of her exquisite nose, she turns to the left and I gorge upon her profile. Every delicious curve of her body is exactly right, a warrior princess, she’s perfect; sleek, athletic, fearsome and beautiful. Strong, powerful, fragile and fine.

And then I see him with her, god I envy him so. He loves her as I do, more probably. I watch as he runs his hand gently across her skin. His touch is tenderness and respect, I can see it… she feels it.

She is his… he cares for her every need and she is faithful and true.

God I envy him.

I’ll never get near her, she’ll never by mine.

She moves off and as I listen to her sweet voice diminishing, I narrow my eyes and fantasize about me and her together. I imagine myself inside her; the intimacy, the ecstasy as we climb to the heavens…

The roar shakes me from my daydream, she comes around and makes a low pass over the hanger; the heavenly vision of her flashing past fills my mind. Her delectable voice at full throttle as she climbs away, gratifies my soul with the twelve cylinder Rolls-Royce Merlin overture that I'd craved for since the last time.

Supermarine Spitfire Mk IX – Imperial War Museum, RAF Duxford.

2006 sees the 70th Anniversary of the first flight of the Spitfire

Please note: I also love several motorcycles, the F-86F Sabre Jet, one particular pair of sunglasses, a Napoleonic Cavalry Sword that I bought in France once, my wife, my kids, Guinness (but not the extra-cold shite) and a WWII relic hand-grenade (inert) that I use for a paper weight.