Starflight

And I used to lie on my back in new-mown grass

Staring upward, to the stars and beyond,

Bradbury, Clarke, and Burroughs whispering

“They can be yours, son.”

And with their help, I journeyed to far off stars in strange ships,

And with their help, I faced fearsome creatures,

the Barsoomian banth of Burroughs,

And rescued fair maidens on harsh planets, the lovely Dejah Thoris,

and dreamt I was Warlord of Mars.

But now, I have no time to lie in new-mown grass,

And little time to stare upward to the stars.

Still Bradbury, Clarke and Burroughs oft whisper

“They can be yours.”

And from time to time, I ride with the Red Hawk

to drive the hated Kalkars from my land,

Or face beautiful Nemone and deadly Belthar upon the Field of Lions,

Faithful Jad-Bal-Ja at my side.

Now the house needs a coat of paint and the grass needs mown,

But I take a little time to stare upward to the stars.

And I know I never shall journey to Mars nor even the Moon,

And I shall find no fair maid upon Barsoom’s dead seas,

nor fierce ten-legged lions among the sharp mountain crags.

But there still stretches before me a path beyond the farthest star.

And I will turn to the whisperers, to Ray, to Arthur, to Ed, and say,

“You were right -- the adventures -- the stars can still be mine!”