Swinging from the Lights

 

We’re swinging from the lights,

We’re standing on our chairs.

We’re bouncing off the walls.

We’re sliding down the stairs.

We’re running in the halls.

We’re slamming all the doors.

We’re jumping off our desks.

We’re skidding on the floors.

We’d rather use the swings.

We’d rather use the slide.

Too bad!  Today it’s raining,

so recess is inside.

 

ONE INCH TALL      

Shel Silverstein

The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.

A crumb of cake would be a feast

And last you seven days at least,

A flea would be a frightening beast

If you were on inch tall.

If you were only one inch tall, you’d walk beneath the door,

And it would take about a month to get down to the store

A bit of fluff would be your bed,

You’d swing upon a spider’s thread,

And wear a thimble on your head

If you were one inch tall.

You’d surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.

You couldn’t hug your mama, you’d just have to hug her thumb.

You’d run from people’s feet in fright,

To move a pen would take all night,

(This poem took fourteen years to write-

‘Cause I’m just one inch tall).