Where does power go when it leaves the lightbulbs?
Do it go back to the powerlines
Or hide somewhere in the lightbulb?
What does Mummy does to make Daddy love her so
much?
And why does Daddy love me so much, too?
Where does the sun go every evening after dark?
Does it go to a cool bed near the lake
And cool itself till morning where it wakes to shine?
Is thunder really our great grandpa's fart
From the heavens above?
Why does I have so many questions
And yet so few to answer me?
And why does Mama babytalk me
When all I try is to learn how to talk naturally?
When will I ever grow up
So I can have all the answers to these questions?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem