The Daily Doggerel: Today's actual post
Growing up in Florida,
rockets rattled the windows.
The moon was right there.
We could grab it.
I was going to be the first,
a lunar architect, at nine.
Then an astronaut's kid
stole my bike.
Spaceships started
exploding.
A teacher
died.
I don't look up anymore, but sometimes
I see her reflected in the mud.
© mckenzee 2007