A Journey through Time and Space
Alisa Pescosolido

It’s nineteen-sixty-six
There is a cheeto-dusted child sitting in father’s lap
Her heart is full of joy for the people who journey through space
The child will travel through spaces
Through living rooms, front rooms, bedrooms

Fifty years on, she tells me:
There is life in spaces

It’s nineteen-sixty-three
There is a child in front of the TV with a bowl of cereal
His eyes are full of envy for the man who travels through time
The child will travel through times
Through good times, bad times, hard times

Fifty-three years on, he tells me:
We are all travelers in times