This morning my son and I
searched the lane for fallen rockets.
We found only one:
a charred remnant amongst sodden leaves
run over by a car.
'Obviously a dud,' I said, 'burnt out
before it had even reached those trees.'
'No Dad,' he said.
'This fell back to earth
after it had scorched the stars.'
(earlier version first published disguised in prose on the letters page Scarborough Evening News , 10/11/08).