An Astronaut Poem by shoshana vegh

My son dreams of the moon.
This morning he flew at kindergarden junk.
Build Spacecraft.
Draw me a map.
I hung on the refrigerator a few pieces of paper
To know how to get to the moon.

'Tomorrow we are going to fly to the moon, '
he solemnly informs me.
It is not new that he is flying since he was born
But this time he flew to bring us
lots of cheese.

In my dream
He sits on the moon like a little prince
Picking up my cheese with holes and
Many dreams.
Soon he will knock with his spaceship
A lot of threads of a dream.
And the moon He'll present me
On a plate