A LADDER I FOUND: poem

(September 16, 2016)

There’s a ladder I found
from the Earth to the moon.
I climb down each night and visit your room.
It's five thousand steps ’til I reach the bottom;
your window is always open wide.
The curtains flow lightly and beckon,
with no words they invite me to go inside.

So, I do just that past the billowing drapes—
quiet as a mouse I tiptoe my way in.
My eyes glow from the stars on the ceiling
and your dim, little neon 
night light spaceship.

I walk softly on the cool 
carpet floor to your bed,
while admiring posters of my distant lunar rock.
Books full of galactic heroes 
are all around as I step,
plus comics, drawings 
and toy astronauts.

When I arrive at your bedside, 
I kneel down, then rest my
head next to yours with a curious stare.
I wonder Earth Girl, what planets you explore?
Perhaps, a moon boy you’ve found 
waiting out there?

I wish I could wake you from your slumber.
I’ve watched in silence for so long.
I imagine if I were to gently rouse you,
at last those eyes I could gaze upon.

Together, we could sail across the universe — 
you’d love the Milky Way, we could have a dip.
I could tell you space stories about 
where I’ve been, while you’d listen in awe 
with your eyes all big.

Alas, though, 
I’m not meant to be made known.
We don’t come from like worlds, we’re different.
I can’t let you leave your parents and friends.
They’ll miss you dearly, 
 and I know you’ll miss them.

Tonight, like countless other nights
I will let you sleep in peace.
I’ll climb my ladder like I always do—
at the top, your room I’ll barely see.

I really hope you’re blessed 
with the sweetest dreams.
Sleep tight, Earth Girl, take care.
You’ll dream, and soon I’ll dream—
and maybe we’ll meet up there.