Tick-tick.
The countdown starts,
Dreams ignite in hopeful hearts.
Eyes so wide, they cannot stray,
The Florida sky calls them to stay.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
A rocket’s flame,
A silver arrow carves its name.
Thirty-eight years, yet echoes ring,
Of seven souls who chased the spring.
Boom. Boom.
The morning cracked,
A plume of white, the silence stacked.
“What happened?” they cried, young voices shake,
As innocence crumbles with the...
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