There once was an orb created long ago
Flying around the sun in 248 earth-years
He was quite content for about 6000 years
Then mankind, in 1930, saw him and said “planet”
Now a man named Clyde Tombaugh
Decided to call this orb Pluto
For its elliptical path
Made Clyde think of a dog’s ear
This orb was thrilled to be seen
Each time Pluto passed the earth
He waved at mankind
As his status made him feel complete
Lo and behold! How fickle man is
Seventy-six years later, Pluto is no longer a planet
“Orbit too erratic,” and “it’s too small”
Were the cries of those in control
Pluto moped as he traversed the sky
And wondered why he was no longer unique
For many revolutions he cried twirled
Uncaring what he saw or hit
In his silence between sniffles
Pluto heard a Great Voice
“Lift your eyes and look to the heavens:
Who created all these?
“I created each of you
Not one of you is missing
Not one of you is useless
I call you by name”
Pluto realized the errors of his ways
The lure of mankind made him proud and boastful
He was reminded of his Creator
Who knows him by name and cares for him
Twirling and twisting in great joy
As he passed out of hearing of the earth, he exclaimed:
”By the way, my name is . .. . . . . . . . . .”
(We’ll just have to wait until we get to heaven to find out)
