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Twelve Sets of Footprints on the Moon

by Michael Murry

I remember when we walked upon the Moon.
Our President had said we would,
In less than ten years’ time.

And we agreed, because we could
Do anything sublime,
Or difficult, or dangerous;
“It’s there, so let us climb.”
This thing called Space, he challenged us,
A nation in our prime.

But then he died. The Dream did not.
That lived. We would see to it.
What he had asked for, he had got:
Our willingness to do it.

Whatever. Name it. Cold or hot,
We’d walk or run right through it.
The one word we don’t speak: “cannot.”
Each problem, we’ll subdue it.

It may seem hard to see this now,
What Time has from us hid.
Just what it meant to take a vow,
That failure we’d forbid.

Success alone would we allow.
“Ten years is not too soon.”
But still we loved him anyhow,
Then walked upon the Moon.


Copyright © 2018 by Michael Murry

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