a poem by Teresa Wilding
I dreamt a cardboard rocket landed in our garden,
Out popped three plastic men and stood to harden,
They came inside for tea and toast,
Sat in front of the fire they began to roast.
After a while they began to weep,
So went to bed for a little sleep,
While in bed it began to rain,
The cardboard rocket went down the drain.
The three plastic men stayed in my room,
until we built a new rocket in which to zoom.