I climbed ever so high,
Reached to touch the sky,
Imagined what it was like to fly,
Knowing you can't, wondering why.
A hole I started to dig,
An adventure, not crossing the street,
I can't understand the people I did meet,
Smiles they shared, when me, they did greet.
Their clothes are different, not like mine,
Some were fancy, dressed real fine,
Little coned hats, worn all the time,
When the hot sun did shine.
When back to my world I returned,
I found my mom much concerned,
My plans for adventuring she hadn't learned,
She scolded me, she was very firm.
Thinking they can fly and digging a hole to China is in the dreams of all five year olds. Mom's everywhere end up scolding because the hole to China was always dug in a very inappropriate place.
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