Moon Rock

Late one afternoon a knock.
Special delivery. His own moon rock!

True, only for one brief inspection.
Still, I’m pleased, thought Dr. Cerpeption.

It came in a smart commemorative case
With signature, saying and crew in space.

He cleared his desk and slit the seal.
Sunk in dark velvet, it beamed appeal.

Vibrant! An extraterrestrial orange.
But nothing really demonical or ang-
elical.

Putting in his third (dioptric) eye,
He checked the lunar lump for dye:

A mineral trace, a knob of ore;
Bits moonologists must yearn for.

Well, matter and energy balanced out.
Magnetism too small to tout.

Age? Maybe three billion-point-two-eight,
Give or take the workings of fate,

And just a speck—he almost missed—
Of a rare and fair tranquilithyst.

Igneous and metamorphoclastic.
Very good, but not bombastic.

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