The boy loved to spin his top

That his mother had bought, from a shop.

His fingers strong, would make it hum

And the colours would merge, it was, great fun.

He wondered one day, if he too could spin,

What it would be like to move so fast

And wondered how long he could last.

So he started slowly, turning around,

Then faster and faster, as momentum found.

He started lifting, from the ground,

Over the fence, where was he bound?

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop,

He had turned into a boy, spinning top.

He suddenly awoke, with a start,

It had all been a dream, from the start.

Wanting to spin, with all his heart,

He thought he’d make an early start.

He found Breakfast ready, on the table,

He started spinning, in front of his Aunt Mable,

Faster and faster he was gaining ground,

Suddenly stopped, everything was swimming around.

To steady himself, to the table he clung,

He was dizzy, and to the floor, was flung,

Dragging with him, the food from the table.

Aunt Mable to act fast, was unable;

As she watched in shock, at the kitchen door,

Whilst he sank, into fried eggs, on the floor.