I dreamed I was an astronaut and circled round the moon.
My friends and neighbours waved at me, and told me, come back
soon.
The reason for adventuring was very plain to see.
I fell in love with outer space. The moon attracted me.
Although
the pull of gravity still held me very strong
And all the time I told myself, the earth’s where I belong,
I gazed up nightly at the sky, determined to be bold.
The moon would woo me tenderly, or sigh, or mock and scold.
I
told my secret to a friend, who told me to take care.
The problem with the moon is that it isn’t always there.
I said I knew of Venus’ ways, and Mercury, and Mars.
And I could track the winking moon among the fiery stars.
I
built a rocket of desire, fuelled by fantasy.
I filled my ship with dreams to make an atmosphere for me.
And every night I made a trip, and every morn returned,
Filled with the wonder of the skies, I hungered, and I learned.
Why
then, so struck by lunar love, did I not land and stay?
Was it because the fickle moon had turned his face away?
I dreamed that far in outer space I saw the blue earth rise.
So all my moony dreams dissolved. I came down from the skies.
I
think I need to dig the earth, a hollow long and deep,
And make a place to lay my head, until I fall asleep.
Freda
Davis 1997 |
