When people are sleeping, <br />And the moon is clear and bright, <br />Little figures come to play away the night <br />They chase each other round and round, <br />Hide between the trees, swinging from <br />the roses, dancing round the peas. Your garden is their world, <br />Which you have made for them, <br />Little gnomes who are all good friends <br />They laugh and cry together, depending <br />on the weather, each one hopes for <br />happiness to last for ever and ever. When morning comes they return to <br />their little homes, busy holding fishing rod <br />and some stuck between stones <br />For now they are plastic, some are made <br />of clay. Patiently waiting for the end of day.<br /><br />Stephen Freeman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gnomes/
