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"Life Is Like A Top" (by Joe DiMino)

The little boy loved tops
Because they spin;
As children
Out and in—
A child’s soul
Inclined to wind,
Twirl like a top,
Never running down
Always out to find;

Some more fancy
Came with cords—
One brightly painted
He called the Lord’s;
Would have to bring
It back someday
When called home
For heavenly play;

Still and quiet,
Dizzy from delight,
They sat on a shelf
In the warm moonlight;
Planets and stars
Never sleep,
Always spin
Waiting for the boy
Again to begin—

He rose each morning,
Growing with turns;
Paused in a single glance
One learns—
The child now a poet
Began to dance—
The planets and stars
Knowing well
Of romance—
And late evening sighs
Become the music
Of infant cries—

What a noisy collection!
Rooms with shelves
Fondly added;
Tops like elves
He now made
And gave away
Except for the one
He had to return
Soon for heavenly play—
“Life is a painted top,”
He would say:
Pointing to a special shelf
at the end of day;
A child on his knee—
“This one is Aunt Nelly’s
And this, Cathylee,
And the others on the shelf
Also made just to be”—
Then pointing out the window
Into glitter-sky,
With a glistening tear
Hid from her eyes:
If ever sad and lonely
And wanting to flee—
That one! See it!
Next to the real shinny one, God,
It’s me—
Ask and I’ll speak to Him,
Get you spinning again
A happy top to see….





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