He’s bought a rocket cheap, metal and polished red.
Second hand without wings, rubbed the rust off with a tiny handkerchief.
He fancies setting out on it and cover a small distance,
The fuel prices have gone up.
Newer budgets are known to fuel anger.
Just take a round around humanity,
And set it back down near the post office, if it flies dangerously low.
He promised to not read the letters in it,
But dig a few and place them on his typewriter- its keys were broken.
A lock at the door was useless now,
Just as useless as his red rocket, and rising fuel prices.
Fuel has hardly been a reason for war.
Word prompt by Daily Post: Broken
