Future Species Will Not Tolerate Hotels
If the Sun was to die today
Dermatologists might groan.
But we, whose skin is always fair,
Can leave the orb alone
to whither up and blow away
Our chaff; to dust our brooms
And venture through the chilling air
Beyond our waiting tombs
If the Moon was to fly away
Apologists might claim
That they, who feel the tidal pull,
Would Ne'er to Dance Again.
Let fly, ye stars!
And rain on Mars
| Contributors: | Copperjock, will h, Beefy, Roland, Yonghy, paul. |
| Poem finished: | 20th April 2005 by (trad). |