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Rusty Broadspear

Silently freewheeling in the serenity of space,
To the backdrop of stars, the reflection of his face,
Mirrored concentration and a degree of tension,
As with his crew, there was an air of apprehension.

Family thrown together, so far a successful mission,
But his eyes disguised a dread, a fateful intuition.
The ball of blue, house, home, open front door,
Grew large. Realms of private love, waiting to explore.

'All's well' - he'd told mission control personnel.
All was far from well, a hunch, inkling, he could tell.
Privately, love was offered to and returned by the crew,
As they slammed into the atmosphere of the waiting ball of blue.

So sad to lose frontiersmen,
Who lead us to pastures new.
God bless all explorers,
God bless the shuttle crew.

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