They caught him near the coral gate, With jellyfish crumbs on a soggy plate. The ocean’s guards in bubble gear, Swirled their lights, then drew in near. Patrick blinked—too slow to run, Still chewing dreams beneath the sun. But something strange began to glow, Where starfish feet would often go. A shimmer, swirl—then colors poured, From toes to tides, the seabed roared. Rainbows bloomed with every tread, As Patrick grinned and softly said: “Arrest me, sure, but look below My feet forgot the way to go.” Made with love and wools