I swooped down,
To scoop up the unruly papers,
On the floor.
It was so windy,
These papers flew out the door.
I thought this paper arrangement,
Between them and I,
Seemed quaintly odd,
And I questioned why.
The ruffled papers,
Looked up to me,
Asking for some answers.
That I couldn't give.
And so the papers and I made the best of it.
We chased each other around in the wind in the trees.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.