Flight 5342

In memory of our lost figure skating family, Dick Button, and decency

Fly high, angel
she said 
kissing him goodbye at the gate 
May all your landings be clean
he smiled
having no idea his fate 

Fire scorching the night sky-
his incandescence  
intense, bright and bold
River rushing to quench it  
with splinters of ice  
shallow, cruel and cold 

Big dreams within reach
and safe edges in sight
they say no one of import flew
The fox hiding plain truth 
and laying blame like a wreath
at the feet of the minor few 

Hope sinking - a golden anchor
losing it’s voice 
and taking it’s final bow 
We will get up 
it’s what they’d want 
we’re just not quite sure how

Fly high, angels
Fly high