Memory’s eye still sees you seated in
your brave new racing flyer, cradled by
shining riveted titanium skin,
hair blowing, smile laughing, chasing the sky.
Remember how in the darkest of times
we would dance by the light of of Saturn’s moons,
bending and swaying to the gentle chimes
of Venusian sea belles’ strange soft tunes?
That world is gone, and grim reality,
malign hand of spiteful alien hate,
has cast your craft far through Orion’s gate:
lost in infinite black eternity.
My prison has an adamantine seal,
There is no hope – until the final reel.