My Lizard
A lizard sat upon my wall. He looked so happy, green, and small. “What scaly thoughts are in your head?” “I’m thinking of my bike,” he said. “Your bike?” with shock I did reply. “I did not know that you could ride a bicycle. I thought you crawled across the ground and right up walls.”“Yes, well, you are mistaken, lad,” My lizard said, a wee bit mad. And from behind my potted plant, he took a bicycle and sat upon its teeny tiny seat and pedaled off with lizard feet.
By Elizabeth Tidy
A lizard sat upon my wall. He looked so happy, green, and small. “What scaly thoughts are in your head?” “I’m thinking of my bike,” he said. “Your bike?” with shock I did reply. “I did not know that you could ride a bicycle. I thought you crawled across the ground and right up walls.”“Yes, well, you are mistaken, lad,” My lizard said, a wee bit mad. And from behind my potted plant, he took a bicycle and sat upon its teeny tiny seat and pedaled off with lizard feet.