The Photograph
When the photograph
was torn to pieces
tiny pieces blown by
the November wind,
Lost in the sky
like feathers from a pigeon,
with nowhere to go.
Hurtled into space forever
floating endlessly.
The pieces of torn photograph are now
the infinite symble of men
who bravely faced the consequence
in space, and succeeded and lost their lives
during their possible mission.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for Visit my Page