Grey-Garlander foots over the busy street,
Greeting whomsoever his eyes meet.
Hurdles a dog over the casket of wines,
While the butcher welcomes a new-white-swine.
Around the corner, at the baker’s,
Jane sells hot pies, sweet tarts that pleases Connoisseur.
Little pink tutus peeking from the window,
Twigs and strands build the house of a sparrow.
Children of Sunday, plays and lays in the park
A Ladybug’s picnic flashes her tiny polka dots.
Poor Anna did a little dance,
On Postman’s arrival.
With a mammoth letter in his hand,
He hands over a foreign stamped one.
Anna’s grandmother left a will in her name.
She will not end up as a lonesome dame.
.
