Poor little inchworm
with all his inchworm traits
crawled onto the yard stick
but he was only seven-eighths
“it’s because of your posture”
his mother did say,
“there’s a hump in your back
that just won’t go away”
“I forgot about my hump, ”
he said with a laugh
then he stretched himself out
to an inch and a half
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem