A tiny figure there on a hill might be me,
A tiny one here in the field might be you,
Tiny creatures in a big world,
Huddling, muddling, turned up and swirled,
Finally rested along, getting furled.
Years are flying by like a jet.
Quite a few survive from a threat,
Thus, let me wear a T-shirt, jeans and beret.
You recollect that distant day,
When we all fell out from the sleigh,
Shouting, laghing, puffing with joy,
Treating our life like a toy,
Planning our lives to enjoy.
Tiny creatures in a big world,
Huddling, muddling, turned up and swirled,
Finally rested along, getting furled.
Furlеd Up to Go Performed
© Copyright: Пол Фил, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №225080100895
Свидетельство о публикации №225080100895
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