He’s the start of a poem and the end of it too. He achieves types of feats we aspire to do.
Watch him at work -he’s perfecting the task. “Has he rocket for brain?” you will find yourself ask.
Inclined, while he plays, to spot where atoms land. Then when I look close, I see slingshots, not hands.
As gifted with talent beyond any you’d see. He’s a capital G. He’s a capital T.