The Tree
When I am free,
I go to a tree,
I play with my friends there,
One of them is cute bear,
One cute bird is singing,
Up in the cherry tree swinging.
Clouds are touching the trees,
In fast breeze,
The tree is gold,
but it is gold,
The butterflies are flying among the flowers,
The clouds give us rain showers.
By Hiya Kothari
Visit our Facebook Page : Little Authors | Facebook
About Author
The Tree