Poetry

Little Seats

We perch ourselves,

as little people in little heads.

We operate little bodies,

made up of little cells.

We roam between little sheets,

covering a little planet.

We soar on a little planet,

chasing a brilliant star.

Little seats make for grand sights,

if so we choose.

The brilliant stars dance,

and we are alive.

We are little people,

perched in little heads.

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