Concorde no longer takes to the air.
Other jets fly, but they cause no stare.
Something like that, not easy to replace.
You where that Concorde, stacked with grace.

But time moves on and still we fly.
But something is missing from the sky.
A thing of beauty a work of art.
You where that Concorde,a class apart.

Once Concorde's time was over and done.
Never again to outshine the sun.
The skies she roamed where never the same.
You where that Concorde in all but name.