From my bird's eye view
Tiny villages beneath me
As I fly above like a plane
Buildings minuscule, like dollhouses
Matchbox cars drive by
In the city,
Polly-pocket people rush around
Tiny little trees,
Like bonsais
But they're not
When I land,
The villages will grow,
The doll house buildings will surround me
Matchbox cars will zoom and honk
The Polly-pocket people will engulf me
In a sea of bodies
The bonsai trees will become giants
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
add me kylee, please? ? ? ? ?