Who made me?

Who put on my skin?


Who shaped me

To the shape I’m in?


Was it the wind in the trees?

Was it the birds and the bees?


And why does four come after three?

Why couldn’t it be you or me?


What makes things the way they are?

The cow and duck, the truck and car?


And when does counting end?

How long does it go on?


“Forever,” says my dad, my friend

And when I yawn,


He kisses my closing eyes 

And then he sighs.


And on my bed

I rest my head


As words into the air I send.

“That’s it, that’s why


God can never die.

Cause numbers never end.”