When the sunlight is dying,
And the owls start flying,
And then you look at the horizon, soon
You will see it coming, in glamour and glory, the mighty and powerful moon.
Once he was thinking,
Whilst he was sinking,
Wouldn't it be nice to be sharing this paradise?
So he searched and he searched,
All over the universe
(Even on Mars)
And when he was heading home,
From a whole day alone,
He suddenly found a gazillion stars.
YOU ARE READING
Leftovers
PoesíaLeftovers Leftovers of me Every story has a piece A piece of my heart
