The Meteorite
There’s a meteorite in my garden,
Well, it looks like one form here,
I won’t be able to tell for sure,
’Til I pluck up courage and go near.
At first, they’re called an asteroid,
When hurtling fast though space,
Then they’re called a meteor,
When the atmosphere slows their pace.
Sometimes they can be seen,
Hurtling through the night,
But once they hit the ground,
They become a meteorite.
It’s definitely not a dog toy,
We have none that look like that,
I s’pose it could be a plant pot,
Or possibly someone’s hat.
It’s black with holes that look like craters,
I wonder what it could be,
But from where I’m sitting just right now,
It’s difficult to see.
Mrs Blackbird’s in the garden,
She doesn’t seem much bothered,
Did an alien ship come crashing down?
I wonder if it hovered.
In sunlight it’s turned speckled grey,
With green spots upon its skin,
Or perhaps I’m look through holes at grass,
With nought but air within.
Now up close I can see,
It’s not a meteorite at all,
It looks like some poor kid has lost,
A funny looking ball.
It's on the grass near the bushes at the back.