Papa, Get the Ball! by Carl D’Agostino
It was early evening and the full
moon was out that night.
My two-year old son insisted on
having that ball so bright.
Told him, “Carlos, it’s a million
and a half miles away.
Let’s go inside, we’ll go fetch
the ball another day.”
Quixote fought his windmills and
the dish ran after the spoon.
He won’t forget. Morrow’s
eve we’ll chase after the moon.