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.