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Poem

The time machine is ready to start,
noises of wheels turning and clocks ticking,
gizmos of uncertain origins squeaking along,
a matter of several minutes all will change,
the man sitting in the easy chair will disappear,
leaving behind family, friends and a career.

A loud boom occurs shaking his house,
one minute he is reclining the next he is gone,
he discovers himself in animated suspension,
floating throughout space with arms widespread,
dodging space junk bigger than a city block,
in time he approaches a planet to his shock.

He enters an atmosphere of deep blue mist,
cradling him like a baby so he will not fall,
gently he lands in a field of azure flowers,
providing a fragrant cushion filling his senses,
the aromatic air makes him sleep for a time,
suddenly he wakes up to a loud deep chime.

Opening his eyes he looks about and sees,
he no longer is on the blue planet but at home,
resting on his comfortable well-used old chair,
apparently the time machine had a failure,
it only made him dream about space travel,
frustrated he decides to quit the crazy rattle.

Time to get up and get some fresh air,
opening the front door he steps outside,
a woven blue haze greets him again,
like in his dream state of hours before,
the time machine was a success,
now he is prisoner in endless distress.



June 8, 2020

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