Private Pelman sat in the control room.
The screen was unresponsive to his touch.
Swallowing his sense of impending doom,
Pretending that he hadn't seen too much.
The automatic door had sealed behind him,
Cutting off the screams of the dying men.
The numbers on his monitor were grim,
For soon he'd too run out of oxygen.
He stared out at the cruel blackness of space
Knowing no one would answer his call.
He wished for one more look at his wife's face
And rued the day he signed on the long haul.
But most of all he wished with all his worth
For one more glimpse of his home planet Earth.