There he stands, one of my five,
Jumping around and so alive.
Face is bright as he stares,
Moving around with nary a sound.
Second base, where he stands
Is a million miles away.
As he kicks up dust
And his mind won’t stay.
There he goes into the world of mystical deities,
Whirling and running, oblivious to plays.
When suddenly, a voice pierces through his dreams.
“Jon, What are you doing? Acting weird, it seems!”
He stands still and quiet,
As he knows he must.
But his mind goes on,
Tap dancing in the dust.