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.