by Nick Gisburne
What stories could you tell us, Tiny Bird,
If only you could whistle to a cloud?
Your feathers fade, your songs will not be heard,
But while you soared above us we were proud.
What stories could you tell us, Master Mouse,
Of roaming in the sultry summer haze?
We found you cold and quiet in the house,
But still remember all your yesterdays.
What stories could you tell us, Lady Frog,
Before you slept forever in the pond?
You never tired of hopping from your log.
Of you, and all your antics, we were fond.
What stories could you tell us, Little Man?
The silence fell before your life began.
