Leaving on a Space Ship
If I leave earth and trade it for the stars,
never can I return home. The rocket’s
red glare, escape velocity, no bar.
past our planet’s dance in our space pocket,
I go into outer space to explore,
to boldly go where no woman has gone
before. To sail the milky way, to soar
past alien suns and watch a new dawn
bloom on exoplanets while you grow old.
Earth spins your years away while mine slow down
special relativity, I’m told,
works like that with light speed; it makes me frown.
I ride the light, push nine-tenths of light speed
as I careen around space in the lead.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Trains, Planes, and Automobiles.” and space ships because why would I choose to travel in anything else? And while I’m in said ship at the controls, why not take a tour of the outer limits of space? Exactly.
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