Cast a glance to the comet up high with a name sounding awkward and dry (in the stellar marquee it's marked 'six-seven-P') and a motion that's hard to descry.
As the comet continues to fly, caught in gravity none can defy (yes, it traces ellipses through solar eclipses), we ask 'does dark matter comply'.
So, we sent the Rosetta to pry and I can't help but wondering why (once in orbit) we spun it so close to the sun, it is likely to sizzle and fry…
But before, we may soon verify that the comet's a custard cream pie made of green cheddar cheese, like the moon, if you please (though that's gospel the savants deny).
When receivers no longer reply (at the end of their solar supply), we won't seek to debug 'em, instead we'll we unplug 'em and turn off our spy in the sky.
If it's certain Rosetta will die then, oh lordy, I surely will cry if we land it like Philae behind the sun, shyly, before I can whisper goodbye.