You are a spotty dalmatian, trotting across the rocky rough road.

You are a mini book, laying peacefully on the dirty table.

You are a rare car, waiting to be driven on the rocky road.

You are a rusty gate, opening loudly and trying to open peacefully.

You are a sluggish tree, swaying slowly in the air.

You are a fast train, speeding to go and pick up people.

You are an old rusty house, in the middle of a field slowly getting older.

You are an adorable bird, looking down for people while screaming to get their attention.

You are a charming pumpkin, bright and orange, fat and juicy.

You are a pretty rose, as red as a cherry.

You are a new smelling caravan, waiting for the sunny summer.

You are my imagination, dreaming that COVID-19 is over.

You are…the end of my poem.


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