(dedicated to Sharon Christa McAuliffe)
Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go. . .
My heart flew out there with John Glenn
at fourteen years of age.
Thus dawned a time of Greater Men.
The moon became a stage.
As millions watched it, blurred and pale,
with fear and awe and pride,
I hid my burning face to veil my jealousy inside.
Monday’s child is fair of face. . .
But space was far. My dreams stayed seeds.
I chose to teach the young
of little lives and humble deeds,
of history unsung,
and, doing so, I shared the fate
of ordinary men,
yet still, on every launching date
I yearned and ached again.
Monday’s child is fair of face. . .
And then, one day, the seed took root.
A challenge sang with might
to a blissful, flustered new recruit
who felt her dreams take flight.
At last, space seemed in Small Man’s reach;
through me, we all would go.
The teacher learned, the more to teach
of what the stars would show.
Monday’s child is fair of face. . .
The engines roar and thunder I’m pressed down by four G.
I blaze in fear and wonder through a sky I cannot see.
Go tell my son, my daughter, their mom is flying far
by the one thing life has taught her:
Always – – –
– – – reach for the stars. . .
Monday’s child is fair of face,
I’ve touched the future. I have taught
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
and I am teaching still,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
of journeys done in truth or thought,
Thursday’s child has far to go.
of dreams they can instill,
Monday’s child is fair of face,
of prices paid and wishes won,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
of an eagerness to grow.
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
I sowed the seed. I took the lead.
Thursday’s child has far to go.
The stars are in your reach. So go.