A hundred stars, a thousand globes
uncounted rocky moons,
and many more I’m bound to see
before my journey is through.

In younger days I scanned the skies
with cardboard tubes and polished glass
whose magic brought forth nebulae
and banded orbs of misty gas.

The stars, as if to beckon me,
then twinkled, winked and danced.
Lost, deep in dreams of distant worlds,
the child’s reeled, entranced.

Now here I wander through the stars
and spy the worlds I’ve longed to roam,
my favorites now are blue and green
reminding me of distant home.

But flowers, trees, birds, grass and seas
the scans still fail to show,
and rocks and sand and methane mists
no longer bring me joy.

I long to plant my feet
upon a far and fertile shore,
but on this futile course I drift,
where the stars will dance no more.