The little, tiny fingers
Place the little, plastic figures
In their plastic, racing car.
With joy, love and vivacity
He gives the car sudden velocity
Sending them through a brief whirlwind of life.
Sometimes they fly out of the coupe,
Sometimes they crash into the couch,
Sometimes they sail safely through three rooms to a quiet halt.
They must look back with delight
To see the hand of their deity
Rising back up into the clouds.