The real world fluttered, flickered, warped
At the edges of my vision
Blurred shapes, muffled noises
My only concern, a 19 inch TV screen
The bright, sharp, beautiful colours
Of spaceships
Of the moon
Of Space… 1999
It was set in the future,
Back then
A future so distant I couldn’t imagine
1999
I’d be a grown up
Like you
Old.
Twenty eight.
Impossible to comprehend
Down in the cellar
You were painting the surface of the moon
A secret
A lunar terrain of wire and plaster
And glue and paper
Maybe four foot square
Made, by you,
For me
Revealed, one afternoon
Laid out for me to find when I got home from school
Model ships hanging on wires
Above the plaster rocks and cliffs of white
You’d carved the moon into my day
And you hung spaceships in the sky
I was small and so short sighted
I didn’t understand or see what you had made
Didn’t take a moment to feel wonder
Just asked if I needed to tidy all my toys away
Reached out to grasp those
Die cast metal ships
Even as they floated impossibly
Above the kitchen surfaces
Not seeing the now
Preoccupied
I didn’t see your face,
Don’t know if you looked sad, or angry
Disappointed at the distance between
The work put in,
The joy expected
And the confused, muddled reality
As I gradually realised what you’d made
And you never said what inspired you
To fashion this beautiful thing
For a generally ungrateful child
Or if you did, my ears were not tuned
To that frequency
But I loved it, that moon
Played with it until the paint wore off
And the wire mesh poked through
The craggy plaster mountains,
A million miles away
Up in my room
I was a kid who worried and dreamed
And hunched my head down
I could barely see
And worse,
I didn’t take the time to look
But you created worlds for me
In the dark, in the cellar
As I ignored the here and now
And dreamed of Space 1999
You carved the moon into my days
And you hung spaceships in the sky