House

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 Peter 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

The palm of his hand protects himself from the sun's rays

which pass through the clouds

He falls asleep with the chirping of the woodlark

The music he likes the most

And wakes up washed by the rain

With a hand red from the touch of  a nettle pillow

Staring at the small blue flowers of Forget Me Not