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Shuttle
by
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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