maybe he was human
couldn't reveal his dreams
downloaded as a podcast
a quirk of natures schemes
as portions of breakfast goodness
are spooned from bowl to lip
sends folic-acid and riboflavin
flooding to his finger-tips
sees the moon jog-in through the double-glazing
as the teapot says a prayer
for feverish with ball-point blazing
who fills-in another square
as a shadow crosses the sudoku
which can't be printers-ink
a reminder perhaps from you-know-who
we're closer than we think
to blast-off from our comfort
in our space-ship Planet Earth
and though maybe not quite human
he'll have residual worth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem