Sweet chats, like laces, in between us,
It’s quiet time for two to dream.
Hitchhikers on the way to Venus, -
Let our thoughts be thrusters’ streams.

A perfect night away from wisdom,
Away from cherished Earth advice,
And points bright are lit with freedom,
So scattered in the blackness iced.

We laugh and toast behind the dome,
You offer dance in weightlessness,
And in next curl of our road,
A poem comes from emptiness.

We circle wide the Oort Cloud,
And set our course for nearest star.
I try to name your favourite colour,
It must be of an autumn park

On dot so blue and, may be, pale.
It is just us in time and space,
We guess away a misty veil
Of traces of an alien race.

We will be back not soon, but strangely,
It feels like minute there for two.
You don’t let me give up and faint,
I won’t let you sleep all that through.

And later, crisp-old whisper-leaves
In rhyme of atmospheric tides
Remind of familiar dreams,
So we could meet another time.

April 2025