When cosmic rays pierce through my visor's mesh, I'm not just any hero, I'm a space-faring mess. My helmet's got a fin, a fin-tastic flair, That makes the ladies swoon, and the men stare.
Its curves are sleek, its lines are bold and bright, A masterpiece of engineering, in the morning light. My helmet's got a story, of its own design, A work of art, that's simply sublime.
View More Sonnets in Space Or, for the love of all that's sane, view Sonnet 2