For the child in you.
There is no ship or message in me,
I have been used and am now empty,
I am made of plastic to throw away,
Non-returnable, non-degradable, I’m here to stay,
Unless a child should come my way,
With imagination to use me in her play.
I could be a rocket to fly to Mars,
Then ever onward to a galaxy of stars,
She would carefully write a message for me
To carry to the future of space rocketry,
My cap as a nosecone, by the way it’s bright blue,
Which recalls my home world as seen by a few.
The child would choose her crayon with care,
What colour would go with words that dare
To speak from one world to anyone ‘out there’,
And what words would she, a child, wish to share?
A few simple words that would simply say,
‘Love from me to you, today.’