Eight line poem about shadow play.
|Four fingers, one thumb|
What could they become?
A rabbit, fox, a growling dog?
Or a thief creeping out of the fog.
Yes, here comes a bird with its feathers flying,
And a swan, swimming serenely, without even trying.
A snake, dinosaur, goose or a horse.
It’s easy just try it. It’s a fun I endorse