All beginnings conclude with the middle
This hole in the roof
And all that grass to roll
The poetry of life
If only these flowers could think
In this night so dark
Lend me your lantern
Along this road so dusty
The rain fell in torrents
Floating in a great pool of water
Consoled by the reflection
Then he wiped his eyes
A great loss to every one
Gave a whisk with his tail
Went back into his hole - in the roof
And the storm grew
Lost in its way

Gypsy