The Idea
Sunlight Icecream – Peotic Story
Sunny was a boy with hair of gold,
A smile so warm, a heart so bold.
Through the village he would go,
With his cart that rang ting-ting, you know.
“The sun is hot. You should be cool.
That is my gift. That is my rule.”
Inside the cart was ice cream bright,
Glowing softly, full of light.
One small scoop could ease your pain,
One sweet cone could lift the rain.
“The sun is hot. You should be cool.
That is my gift. That is my rule.”
If hearts were heavy, eyes filled with tears,
Sunny’s ice cream chased the fears.
He never asked for coin or pay,
He only smiled and liked to say:
“The sun is hot. You should be cool.
That is my gift. That is my rule.”
One summer day, the heat was wild,
No cool breeze, no shade beguiled.
The people cried, the ground was dry,
But Sunny came with twinkling eye.
He scooped and scooped, both fast and true,
The square was filled with joy anew.
And as they laughed, the people sang,
They clapped their hands, the small bell rang:
“The sun is hot. You should be cool.
That is his gift. That is his rule.”
But clouds rolled in, so dark and deep,
They stole the light, they made folks weep.
Sunny looked—his tubs were bare,
No golden glow was waiting there.
The people cried, “What shall we do?
Without your gift, we’re weary too!”
Sunny closed his eyes and knew,
The light was not just sky-born blue.
It lived in laughs, in songs, in cheer,
In every hug, in voices near.
And from his chest, the glow returned,
The magic light the people yearned.
“The sun is hot. You should be cool.
That is my gift. That is my rule.”
And so they say, when skies grow grey,
They think of Sunny and feel okay.
For one day soon he’ll climb the sky,
And shine as a star, so bright, so high.
But till that day, they wait to hear,
The bell, the cart, the boy so near.
With hair of gold and smile so bright,
And ice cream made of sun and light.
“The sun is hot. You should be cool.
That is his gift. That is his rule.”
