A daytrip to the Moon

One Sunday afternoon

As a dreary sun

Rested its rays on the earth below

And little fluffy clouds

Slowly dragged their feet

Across the sky

I sat in my window,

Thinking a little bit about you

So I gave you a call.

 

You came over and we sat,

Quite idly,

Staring up at the sky.

You said: why don’t we

Find something to do?

And I asked you: what?

 

Then I thought,

Of the rocket parked in the garden

And said: why don’t we take it for a drive?

You approved my idea

And packed a picnic basket

With sandwiches, and apples, and a bottle of lemonade.

 

We seated ourselves in the rocket,

Pondering on how to steer.

Then found a manual

Written in Gibberish.

We took off, in the general direction of the sky.

 

Soon we hit the stratosphere

And all we could see of earth

Were bleary patches of blue and green.

A luminescent orb

Hovered in front of us

And you said: that’s the Moon!

 

We opened the manual

On the section about landing

And gently touched down

On the silvery surface if the Moon.

 

As we went outside

The air was breathable and sweet

And we sat down on a patch that looked comfortable.

Then we began to eat our sandwiches

And toasted in plastic glasses of lemonade

To the blue-green orb bellow.

 

We jumped about, as you do

When gravity isn’t what it usually is.

And we watched the sun

Make its way around the earth

And wondered where it had set.

 

Then we decided

It was time to go home

So we packed up and headed back to the rocket.

As we set off and steered back to where we came from

We smiled although we knew

This was unlikely to happen ever again.

 

We got back home, just in time for dinner

And found that we hadn’t been missed.

We said goodbye and you headed back to yours.

We agreed we wouldn’t mention it

As no one would believe it, anyway.

But all in all, there are far worse ways

To spend a Sunday afternoon

Than with a picnic

With your best friend

On the surface of the Moon.

Reviews

[Chadvonswan]

Very nice romantic scifi poem you have written here. It reminds me of something Bradbury would have written