It soared into the clear blue sky under a gibbous moon.
I shed a melancholic tear and sang a mournful tune.
I parted from reality, after a pipe or two,
And surfed across dimensions on a wave of irish stew,
The recipe for which was told me by an old gnu,
In transit on a scooter to romantic rendezvous.
The first postcard I sent en route to Lunacy was dear,
And all with scottish accents, which I found a little queer.
The terminal provided for the weary and confused,
Was furnished quite eclectically to calm and keep amused
The screw deficient travellers, who wandered and perused
The waiting room in search of comfy chairs on which to snooze.
My life now is anomalous, with chaos everywhere,
But I've made most uncommon friends, and what we have we share.
And I am happy here beyond the looking glass somewhere.