The Little Man

I was sitting with my son last night in the rocking chair and this little poem popped into my head. I gave him a shortened version while "walking" my fingers up and down his arms.

The Little Man

There once was a little man about this high.
He loved to walk, but no one was really sure why.
He'd walk up one side and down the other.

He'd walk all the way home just to check on his mother.
He'd walk on the inside or the outside,
whether or not there was someone else beside.
Sometimes he'd reach the top,
and sometimes you wonder if he'd ever stop.
When he got to the bottom after all that down,
he'd keep on going back on up without a frown.
People all over town would start to talk,
But the little man just liked to walk.