Quixotic, it may be
To dream of stark reality
My, my, that line is getting old
And yet remains as yet untold
an oxymoron in disguise
of my methodically-told lies

What if I told you I’d been to mars?
Traversed the craters of dying stars?
Would you believe my moonstruck tale
of whispered waves on cosmic shale?
my flight through fire and through frost,
discovering planets long-lost?

upon my whimsy’s lissome wings…

I scaled dark saturn’s dusty rings
Jingled its moons upon their strings
And peered into our vivid sun
before full orbit having run
returned to earth, returned to you
to glimpse again a sky so blue
and… maybe chance
another glance
afore a last adieu.