The Painting
As I stroll
down the path,
down the path,
I watch, look, see
the trees, flowers bloom.I sit on the bench
watch the birds soar, scatter.Spring is here.But I wake
back at home.
No more birds;
no more trees.Look at the painting
on the wall
of the room
where we eat.
I've been there,
have you?
Watch the rabbit,
can you see?
♠ ♠ ♠
In my dining room hangs a painting, in which, my grandfather convinced me when I was young, there was a rabbit, who ran away when you looked for him.