Nimble and Quick

It’s the first Olympics on the moon,

And the crowd is all in helmets and suits.

Out walks the champion at the crack of noon,

And kicks the moon-dust from his boots.

The pole-vault is the upcoming event,

But no high bar is seen in the sky.

Aloft in a rocket module the champion went,

To his homebound spacecraft flying high.

poem by Albert Price
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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