The teapot flies,
Within the skies,
Sparkling with purple snow.
The doorbell rings,
The cricket bat sings,
Its a funny old world you know.
The nose runs riot,
But the rain stays quiet,
Enjoying the bright green sun.
The tree eats card,
The boy works hard,
Saying “Gosh, this is fun.”
The teapot lands,
On the bright blue sands,
Spilling coffee on the floor.
In this great place,
Life’s not a race,
And happiness is raw.
So take life slow,
Smile as you go,
At the teapot which flies by.
Perhaps one day,
You’ll fly that way,
In a teapot in the sky.
by Mouse, 1995ish
