I Didn't Dare Go

I Didn't Dare Go

An alien lived for a short while
behind my bedroom drawers.
He begged I visit planets with it,
fly to unknown moons with it,
spy on UFOs with it.
But I didn’t dare go.

He kept me awake, going on
about worlds I’d never seen.
He chattered on all night he did,
spun me tales of peace he did,
funfairs on the stars he said.
But I didn’t dare go.

He leapt from the shadows and grumbled.
His eyeball rolled then stared.
He whispered that the time had come,
I must get out of bed and come,
Must trust in things beyond the sun.
But I didn’t dare go.

He sighed and then sprung to the window.
Tapped his cosmic watch.
He warned it's my last chance tonight,
to meteor-ride through starry nights
to fleet and soar on wonder flights.
But I didn’t dare go.

He launched himself skywards and spiralled,
and stellar-flaking trails
fell and melted on my eyelids.
I slid behind the drawers and hid,
I didn’t want to be this kid.
I wanted to go!
But it was too late.

Then, lasers light-sabered the darkness
and found my crying place.
Something grabbed my hand and cheered,
zapped away the fear I feared,
zoomed me to the future years...

Where I dared do anything
and go anywhere.
All the time,
everyday,
always.
Forever!

©2009 Mark Bird