He lay in his leaf, gently snoring all day,
Though for certain he knew what others would say.
He was lazy, unbothered, enjoying the sun,
And I’m sure that to him, this was certainly fun.
“The leaves are for eating!” his friends quickly said,
“Not for rocking to sleep in that cosy small bed.”
“Get up and get eating,” were the words that he heard,
Though: “Go back to sleep,” was what he preferred.
His brothers and sisters munched and they crunched.
They breakfasted well and then started on lunch.
They gobbled and chewed, then started again.
They gnawed and they nibbled in sun and in rain.
He rocked to and fro in his comfortable bed.
“An agreeable life,” are the words that he said.
His friends became butterflies and all flew away,
But he lay in his leaf and just slumbered all day.
A blackbird flew down to a branch on the tree:
He was thinking of what he could find for his tea.
He spotted the caterpillar there in his leaf
And quickly and quietly, just like a thief . . .
His beak snapped him up just as fast as could be:
Oh what a good treat he’d discovered for tea.
Well this is the end of that story for sure,
But, being a poet, I’m sure you’ll get more!!
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