Trot along pony late in the day,
Down by the meadow is the loveliest way.
The apples are rosy and ready to fall.
They hang on the tree by Grandfathers’ wall.
But the red sun is sinking,
Away out of sight;
The chickens are settling themselves for the night.
Your stable is waiting,
And supper will come.
So turn again pony,
Turn again home.
Down by the meadow is the loveliest way.
The apples are rosy and ready to fall.
They hang on the tree by Grandfathers’ wall.
But the red sun is sinking,
Away out of sight;
The chickens are settling themselves for the night.
Your stable is waiting,
And supper will come.
So turn again pony,
Turn again home.
cool poem bethany
ReplyDeleteThis is a great poem Bethany, i like the way it flows nicely and is enjoyable to read.
ReplyDeleteGreat work!