My Time Machine

I flipped the switch and it roared to life, With gears spinning and blinking lights, Dials with arrows swinging left and right, And a GPS screen to track my flight. Then I closely examined my historical map, While holding the keyboard on my lap, And paused to wonder, where in time to go, But with so many choices, I just didn’t know. Maybe to the Pyramids, to witness their building, And to speak with the aliens about their helping, Or to Dealey Plaza to see firsthand, If Lee Harvey Oswald was really the man. Or to the “56” World Series, which would be nice, Where Don Larsen put ‘dem Bums’ on ice, Or maybe I could warp to Normandy’s beaches, To see what history cannot teach us. Or possibly a journey to Independence Hall, Where our Founding Fathers were starting it all, And I’ve always wanted to see ancient Rome, And the chariot races at the hippodrome. Then it dawned on me where I should go in time, To Jersey City - nineteen-forty-nine, So, I typed in the coordinates and stepped inside, And in a micro-second, I completed my ride. And I found myself standing next to this guy, Who had a big wide smile and a gleam in his eye, As he gazed at a bundle all wrapped in blue, Through a pane of glass that provided the view. And when the spell was broken, I heard him say, “That’s my son, right there, he was born today,” And as we looked at each other, I’m sure he knew, That I was that bundle wrapped in blue.