Copy Dad
Atop the overhead sprinkler pipe
The sparrow hops, showering notes.
My ears are wet, but I've no regret;
A little singing flame does grow.
Come sparrows many and copy dad;
Come drowning showers and make me glad.
A-sing in sprinkles alive with light,
I'll start up fires that blaze all night!
Copyright © Brian Faulkner | Year Posted 2008
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