Poetry is great it seems to set me free
To wander around where I can’t be found
If you happen to poke in a barrel of fun
You’ll probably find me writing a pun
Don’t look in the attic
I may be hiding there
And you - I don’t want to scare
You might check the moon
On a breezy night
I might be there
Flying a kite
If you can find me
Look up the tree
I might be imitating
A bumble bee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem