Ficly

Space Station Alpha Flies Over

As Jeopardy! begins for three
I have but nineteen minutes
before I rush to look above,
and see what the sky has in it.

A star that glides from West to North
as my chin reaches higher.
She cannot see my house, nor me,
but I can see her fire.

She wafts o’er kitchens she cannot smell,
above sirens she’ll never hear.
She’s been flying since the day she was born
up beyond the stratosphere.

Now she seeks the next sunrise
and wets her wings in the Dipper.
The barren trees grant her privacy
as she makes another departure.

Does she long to land on my icy world?
For my driveway of blackened snow?
Does she wish to touch this place so much
and the people gazing below?

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