Somewhere between take off and touch,
hope became a plume of fire—
not a scream, but the gasp
of silence being torn apart.
Was it meant to be so sudden,
a moment when breath turns to history?
The sky did not warn them.
Clouds carried no omen,
and the fuselage hummed
its usual lullaby—
families in mid-laugh,
children drawing dreams on foggy windows.
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