• Will

Nacelle Crust

Updated: 6 days ago

Poem by Harry Slater.


Arms outstretched,

Fists our clumsy nacelles,

We stared at the stars and asked

“How close?”

Before the crust of age oxidised

Our moving parts,

we dreamed of starships

In our waking hours.

Explorers all, brave and determined

to reach new heights

and farther aways.

Lucky now to dream at all

Let alone to stretch

And reach for glimmering things.

Grounded in too many ways

By the grey dirge of survive

And the sad answer of

“Too far.”

Image by Mike Harman

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