At the bottom of the garden
under the eaves
near the palm festooned with leaves
two pink flamingos stoop to graze
and pass the time on summer days
They watch the shadows cruising by
and muse on how it feels to fly
I’d join them if I knew the lingo.
Wish I’d learned to speak flamingo!
under the eaves
near the palm festooned with leaves
two pink flamingos stoop to graze
and pass the time on summer days
They watch the shadows cruising by
and muse on how it feels to fly
I’d join them if I knew the lingo.
Wish I’d learned to speak flamingo!
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