An idea lay along the street
With writing on the side,
Describing all that it could do,
All that it had inside.
A man came walking down that street
And saw the idea alone
He read the side and knew at once
Where that idea should go
“Such a good idea!” he thought!
“It’s perfect for my dad!”
An idea, he knew without a doubt
Was the best he’d ever had.
He carried it straight to his father’s door
And held it up and said
“Dad, this idea is just for you!”
But his father shook his head
“It’s not that it’s a bad idea,
But I like this idea instead.”
The son looked past his father
And saw there on the floor
An old, somewhat dusty idea
He’d never noticed before.
He didn’t read the writing there –
He knew there was no need,
For his was a far superior idea
If his father could only see.
And so he told his father that
For hours (or so it seemed)
Until, at last, with a shake of his head
His dad finally agreed.
Happy, the son placed the idea up high,
Where everyone could see
And took away the bad idea
That he knew should never be.
And then he left his dad alone
With the new idea enthroned,
Wishing for a good idea,
Like the one he once had owned.