The Squirel

I woke up one morning
and saw a squirrel out of the corner of my eye.
He was small and spry.
He ran up the tree towards the sky.
His brown coat was shinny from the sun in the sky.
Some times I wish a squirrel.
So I could be so on the fly.
All the time on the fly round and round the tree I'd go.
All the way back to my home.

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