Don’t build a castle in the air.
If the wind blows,
It might float away.
A father and his children,
May be on an outing,
At a spring green park in April,
When along comes a castle,
Floating by,
And they may dance up in the sky,
To join it.
Or maybe a dog,
About to lick a rock,
Sees the majestic glitter,
On a puffy pink cloud,
So it jumps into the air,
And flaps its legs,
Rising into the sky,
To join it.
And all around the world,
Floats his tremendous sight,
And people rise to follow it,
And catch it with their butterfly nets,
And hop inside,
Just for the ride,
Flying into the unknown.
So pretty soon,
When all are there,
The castle might soar into outer space,
And with a whir of ice cream engines,
Of they’d go,
To millions of worlds,
Until all are left,
Uninhabited by life,
Because all are gathered
In the palace.
Then by chance,
They might be blown,
Over a far off world of raspberry bushes,
And it is so hot,
That the cloud evaporates,
And all are tumbled down,
Into a prickly red soup
Of raspberry jelly.
And since there is nothing there,
But endless seas of red & purple squish,
They are all stranded,
Left to eat tons of tart and juice,
And the Universe is left,
To start all over.
And this raspberry planet,
Pokey as a needle,
Cries out for help,
In one voice,
But no one,
Is left to answer.