Thy kingdom is a farmers field oh tiny, little mouse
Where life is in a pumpkin patch
A pumpkin for a house
High above are birds of prey
An owl, You must hide
She waves to you as a friend
With a smile, passes by
Robin red and butterflies
Migrate just before the cold
Someday, not long, shall then return
When warm air transforms the snow
A little mouse within a dream
So small and well fed, fat
And when you wake, To dream again
Then home, The pumpkin patch
(09/27/2022)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem