by Charles M. Gray
There is an old star, her name is Tabby,
she’s got all the astronomers, in a babbling babby.
They argue and fight, about why she is dimming,
for me, alien structure, is the song she is singing.
She makes me wonder, about our alien friend,
building a Dyson sphere, before their end.
Comets and dust, that’s a boring conclusion,
spying on civilization, that’s the grand illusion.
She travels the cosmos, embodies the past,
she reaches our eyes, we encode her at last.
Wavelengths determined, commencing calculation,
we’re not quite there yet, there’s complication.
But there’s a glimmer of hope, we can figure you out,
I know you are sad, I have no doubt.
Hang on dear Tabby, shed your bright light,
light years away, we have you in sight.
Scientists reach out, a helping hand they lend,
you’re not alone Tabby, Kepler’s your friend.
It was love at first sight, thru the telescope back then,
I beg you dear Tabby, please dip again.