It is the start of a pleasant summer afternoon.

I am running down the stairs,
quickly and excitedly,
with my neighbours following me.
We all want to see the Earth.
It has just landed in the backyard.

There it is,
lying in the
pile of top-grade manure
my mum bought
at a garden supplies shop.

The world’s population
is jostling around it,
all trying to get a piece
for themselves.

I fight and weave my way
through the crowd
until I am standing
right in front of
the fragile, blue-tinged orb,
its allure undiminished
by the splotches of muck
on its surface.

I can see my home town,
so peer closely,
trying to spot myself too.

There I am!
Looking closely
at the globe
that has just landed
in my backyard.

I give myself a good wave
and observe myself
waving back at me.

I remember well
the warm feelings of affection
for this sphere,
and the unbearable sensation of loss
as I watched it wither away.