I remember with fondness

the day

when you flew us all

to the moon,

or at least made the stars

accessible.

Were we drawn by your charisma,

or the belief you held

so that Tubular Bells

could be played,

or was it a Tangerine Dream

that we were sold,

as you grew,

not content

to bring sex and rotten pistols

to the public…

now

you strive to be in space,

man,

this fragile ego

that you must own the world

from plane, to train, to everything a virgin can claim to be,

except loved…

Your honour

sold out so long ago.

Ian D. Hall 2021