Writing

Apollo

Shuttling forward very fast

into spacetime’s warped embrace,

icy comets hurtling past.

 

Though the journey is fantast-

ic, still the fear, the cutthroat pace,

shuttling forward very fast.

 

The cockpit shaking as we cast

aside concern, we daren’t lose face;

icy comets hurtling past.

 

Home fires burn. Oh God! The blast!

And days before we’re back to base,

shuttling forward very fast.

 

Stressed, we turn on Mozart’s Last

Requiem, as we onward race,

icy comets hurtling past.

 

But look! ahead the iconoclast-

ic moon, a conch in expanding space.

Shuttling forward very fast,

Icy comets hurtling past.

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