The Routine of Space Travel

The year was thirty thirty-four,

And the S.S. Explorer did soar,

Through the blackness of the void,

A mission to explore.

Seven astronauts on board,

A diverse crew of men and lord,

With skills and bravery, they'd been hand-picked,

For this journey, no one was sick.

The ship, a symphony of gears,

Hummed a song, without any fears,

The pioneers, with chatter light,

Did their daily tasks, with nary a blight.

Fate, a fickle mistress fair,

Had a surprise, beyond compare,

An alarm, a sudden wail,

A derelict ship, on our trail.

The crew was stunned, unsure what to do,

Their fate, now, hanging by a thread, so few,

They prepared for impact, with all their might,

But blackness was all that came in sight.

The first chapter, a mystery unfolds,

The fate of the crew, yet untold,

Their journey, a story yet to be spun,

By the hands of fate, the outcome un-done.