What is your favourite
Book
Asks Alice
That's easy Little Cricket
Yours
I say
The dogs bark
And the ceiling moves
We would like
To move
I trust you
I say
The gates are closed
The sky is dark
Mother stole
The powder
You can't blame
Everything on mother
She says
You are grown now
The birds
Circle overhead
A storm is brewing
We will hunker
Down in bed
Wait for tomorrow
Enjoy our dreams.
