Neil Armstrong Takes Buzz Aldrin's Photo

Stepping Off the Lander on the Moon 

Courtesy NASA  7/20/1969

Thrilling

That thrill is gone,

when you're over the hill,

or so BB King wailed,

but I remember it still.

Times that it broke,

ran off the track,

hit me so hard,

didn't know my front,

from my back.

Times in the air,

not knowing exactly,

where I would land.

But somehow arriving all right,

just as though it were planned.

When she smiled at me,

or even just showed her face.

Times we touched,

or we embraced.

Exchanging those feelings,

only two can exchange.

Thrilling us up and down,

the entire thrill range.

Times on the dance floor,

when I held her so close.

Music and beat enclosing us,

in a package so neat.

We were one with the universe,

one with the stars.

We could have just as well,

been on Jupiter or Mars.

There was no pain, just the thrill.

Everyone had their Blueberry Hill.

So, the thrilling years are still not gone,

when I see your face in the morning,

it still turns me on.

Copyright © 2020 Ronald W. Hull

12/10/20

You can view and print this poem here at my website.