Kyron Saunders

He walked through months of stormy skies,
When tempers flared and patience dies.
A long, gray season, heavy and near,
Each day a battle of doubt and fear.
Sometimes scared of standing alone,
A quiet fear of losing hearts well known.
Though somewhere inside a boy still dreamed,
Of thunderous roars and contrails white.
Airshows blazing in summer light,
Each loop, each dive, a whispered call -

“You were meant to fly above it all.”

Clouds of anger thinned away,
Waking to the blue of a brighter day.
Where planes and rockets are born to rise,
Hope and fear flying together through endless skies.
The boy and the man, his spirit free
Building the future he dreamed to see.