Until The Stars Grow Bright Poem by Patti Masterman
Until The Stars Grow Bright
We're going to the moon, Alice-
Pack your things, be swift;
They're holding the ship for us,
Gonna give us both a lift.
We're going to the moon, Alice-
There's room for folks like us,
A mellow place is there waiting;
No need to make a fuss.
We're going to the moon, Alice-
But we'll keep earth in our sight,
And watch her from a distance
Until the stars grows bright.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/12/2024 10:25:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
