The Word Cloud

This is a little poem I wrote for my niece - she raved about it to all her friends. I'm the hottest poet on the playground now :) In outer space it’s hard to get, Custard for your cheese baguettes. Which makes unhappy space cadets, Who drive into the sun. Ah… outer space, it warps your mind. The socks you’ll loose, the socks you’ll find. The space cadets are flying blind, Straight into the sun. But space is full of custard trees! And small blue frogs and strange disease, and even suicidal cheese, Which flings itself into the sun. So space cadets do not loose hope. They make a comb from carved up soap, And find the place where they can cope. Custard haven, Star base One.