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.