Flying on a Blue Dream, a poetry collection

Flying on a Blue Dream

All I ever want to do with my life is fly.

Fly into the vast depths of space within a

Rocket-Fueled tin can.

At the age of five I am already

Slowly

Realizing this dream

With my tiny Nasa T-shirt and saturn pjs

And deep blue eyes that when looking at the

Star-spangled midnight blue wallpapers around

my bedroom, see

More than simply a wallpaper, but a dream.

I soar around my room, guiding my own

toy rocket with my hand and my imagination,

Myself being ground control.

I peer into the small plastic vessel, checking up on the figure inside.

"This is ground control to Major Tom. Can you hear us?"

"This is Major Tom to Ground Control. I hear you loud and clear. American Eagle IV has reached orbit."

It is now me inside the space-can,

looking out my window into onto the earth and the vacuum of space,

floating along in a most peculiar way.

I observe that the stars seem to look very different

from the way i imagined them 30 years ago.

Who would've ever thought that something so empty would yet be so beautiful?

I pull my camera out of my pack,

And point it at a precarious angle toward myself, making sure to include the universe in the background.

This is one the kids will want to see.

Shutter noise in 3... 2... 1...

Click

I'm sitting in a creaky rocking chair

Back home,

Showing my grandchildren the photo which I had taken on that voyage.

The frame around it is cracked, and the picture itself is old and faded,

But yet their little eyes stare in awe,

The same sort of way they would've looked at a 3 layer chocolate cake, at their age.

The older of the two, 7 years old, proudly wears his NASA shirt,

While the youngest one, 5, sits in her

Solar system pj's.

I smile the same smile they do.

My dream lives on in them.