Billy in the Sky
“We’ve bigger fish to fry,” I said.
“I do not want to die.”
“You at least have to try,” I said,
“I’ve something in my eye.”
“Just close them, quick, and grab the branch, and jump-”
“It’s far too high!”
“Okay, I’m going home,” I said, and left him with a sigh.
The next day mother told me that poor Billy tried to fly,
And now he’s running on the clouds,
And playing in the sky.
This came to me quite out of the blue, though I think it has a little (more than a lot) to do with a dear friend of mine introducing me to a great spoken word poet ‘s poem, Catching Hand (by Antosh Wojcik)- which is ten times better. Do please take a look.