The air is chilly, my mood-reader leans to bored,
I write a simple phrase on my red ball,
Telling the world, telling the sky, my simple message,
This reads 'Hi'
I kick this ball hard, watch this ball fly,
To my misfortune I watched my ball soar,
My simple message, my object of fun left me for the moment,
Leaving me all alone.
I cry in my yard, cursing at the sky "Give me my red ball Mr. Sky"
As if on cue a red object flew through the sky, now from the opposing side,
I scampered along, believing this to be a miracle of God in the sky,
But when I peer at my ball I find a new message written,
The same message of "Hi" now is no longer alone.
Curiosity hits in my heart,
My sharpie drawn,
I write a new message, "Who are you, where has this gone?"
Later in the day the red messenger bore more writing,
This time claiming a girl got hold of my ball,
The stars align, my heart beats, and I write a description of where I sleep,
I kick the ball at an awkward angle, the ball flying no longer true,