House

He had a small but practical house
He quickly gets ready wherever he goes
A house, like a house, a little home, whatever you choose
But to have a house that goes with you
It must be a snail, a hermit crab, or Peter
This is the story of Peter's house that fits on his shoulder
Sometimes blisters him all the way
So Petar stops and fixes it
It must have been the doorstep that bent him over
Or the balcony presses on his neck
Balcony with a view into the distance
Down the city streets or up to a mountain road
Peter goes
He is looking to find a convenient place for his house
With a canopy of the blue sky
He reclined like that in a deckchair on his balcony
looking at the clouds and the flowery fields he left last summer
Next to him, a pecking blackbird wipes its beak
In the distance, jay dressed in a nice pink coat with a white collar
screeching, trying to sing
He protects himself from the sun's rays which pass through the clouds
He falls asleep with the chirping of the forest lark
The music he likes
And wakes up washed by the rain
With a hand red from the touch of nettle pillow
Staring at the small blue flowers of Forget Me Not