Thursday, January 4, 2024

A Cradle Poem











When the sun is down

The Master looks for the stars,

And... ops, a mistake,

He dropped violet.

Gray and orang, purple and red,

Now is time to go to bed...

Moon will come out;

Will give you some light,

Mama will smile,

"Good night and bye-bye..."

(Tomshinsky, Ida @)


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