Crowds clustered at the embarkation point,

eager now to find their cabins for the trip.

Some few I recognised, having seen them here

over the last few days. Others, unknown to me,

arrived in the final hours before departure.

 

Security was pernickety, as you would expect,

fingerprints and retinal scans keeping the queue

to a steady trickle. Only the chosen few permitted

to board this ship, the solitary vessel available

for this great exodus from our homeland.

 

Overhead, the sky above was surprisingly blue,

but out to the west dark clouds were gathering,

a dark premonition perhaps of what was to follow.

Nervous faces surrounded me, eyes drawn

to the spectacle as it seemed to grow by the minute.

 

I found the cabin to which I was assigned,

meeting those who were to be my companions

for the duration of our voyage. We greeted

each other in good spirits, mirroring the relief

at the prospect of our impending departure.

 

On the second day, we congregated by consensus

at the viewscreens which were directed behind us,

showing our point of origin. There were many tears,

and much sobbing as we watched the asteroid hit,

reducing our beleaguered planet to scattered space debris.