Ball

This poem honestly makes no sense at first. You have to think about it first. (I know, Kenny and think don't usually go in the same sentence, but oh well)

A ball is a great toy.
It has all the joy of
A sunlit morning flowing
Through the portal like rays
Of gold.
Children's hands
Love to touch the
Rubber face,
The bouncing cherub
With the giggly smile.
It rolls, the boulder
Shaping their lives,
Tasting their spirit
Knowing their love
Endless love
For the play
That moves us all
That can roll us like
A ball.