Peter Piper was ever punctilious, like minty nature's painstaking paintings,
Or the palsied skies of one pretty evening, in the hour of the sun's fainting.
Peter lived upon a small, fertile farm, and was one of five, happy children;
The son of loving, hardworking parents, jointly working until dusk, silken.
They tended cows, pigs and chickens, and farmed potatoes and pumpkins,
As well as peas and pickled peppers, like velvety, dreaming presumptions.
Favored friends called some fuchsia Fridays, when glitter stars came early,
......
I dwelt on a forest green, productive farm, in fruitfulness of golden autumn,
Where ragged scarecrows waved gladly, beneath turquoise skies, and plum.
Ours was the latest generation of farmers, like hued skies of late afternoon,
In their daily, nostalgic foreboding, that says the moon will be coming soon.
We put our all into daily toiling, like when the moon whispers to milky stars,
And as the word 'energy' is murmured, in the bright regions of the quasars.
The sun, wind and weather were our friends, so fresh and novel and smiling,
......
Jack and Jill were brother and sister, whose environs were hilly and green;
And they groomed horses and worked in gardens, oft 'til a moonlight scene.
They did daily chores on a farm, in the outlying regions of Center Kingdom;
Like collecting eggs and feeding their animals, under the varying sun prism.
They swept the porch and milked goats, or harvested vegetables and fruits;
Like the mad flight of lovely Esmeralda, when autumn colors were in pursuit!
Their frisky friends were farmers' children from nearby, with a few far-flung;
......
Elsie Marley was a playful, middle child, with five sparkling siblings,
Living on emerald, Willow Brook Farm, underneath skies very citron.
Everyone in the family lent a hand, at skillfully managing their farm.
At twelve years old, Elsie joined in, like golden bees, flower charmed.
Every fleeting day was the same as the last, yet magically different;
Like when a rainbow touches jade grass, and blazing sun is imminent.
Fantastic friends made school days fun, in the flitting, youthful hours;
......
I lived on a rolling green farm, and I had a love of astronomy;
And peered at skies of sleepless nighttime, so vast and starry.
It had for long been my hobby, and I had a powerful telescope,
As gold days look to onyx darkness, while they go up in smoke.
Besides being extremely edifying, stargazing was plenty of fun,
As the fun nouveau coral dawns, emerging in unique versions.
I enjoyed quiet life on the farm, as much as I loved my hobby,
......
Elsie Marley was a playful, middle child, with five sparkling siblings,
Living on emerald, Willow Brook Farm, underneath skies very citron.
Everyone in the family lent a hand, at skillfully managing their farm.
At twelve years old, Elsie joined in, like golden bees, flower charmed.
Every fleeting day was the same as the last, yet magically different;
Like when a rainbow touches jade grass, and blazing sun is imminent.
Fantastic friends made school days fun, in the flitting, youthful hours;
......
Peter Piper was ever punctilious, like minty nature's painstaking paintings,
Or the palsied skies of one pretty evening, in the hour of the sun's fainting.
Peter lived upon a small, fertile farm, and was one of five, happy children;
The son of loving, hardworking parents, jointly working until dusk, silken.
They tended cows, pigs and chickens, and farmed potatoes and pumpkins,
As well as peas and pickled peppers, like velvety, dreaming presumptions.
Favored friends called some fuchsia Fridays, when glitter stars came early,
......
Jack and Jill were brother and sister, whose environs were hilly and green;
And they groomed horses and worked in gardens, oft 'til a moonlight scene.
They did daily chores on a farm, in the outlying regions of Center Kingdom;
Like collecting eggs and feeding their animals, under the varying sun prism.
They swept the porch and milked goats, or harvested vegetables and fruits;
Like the mad flight of lovely Esmeralda, when autumn colors were in pursuit!
Their frisky friends were farmers' children from nearby, with a few far-flung;
......
I dwelt on a forest green, productive farm, in fruitfulness of golden autumn,
Where ragged scarecrows waved gladly, beneath turquoise skies, and plum.
Ours was the latest generation of farmers, like hued skies of late afternoon,
In their daily, nostalgic foreboding, that says the moon will be coming soon.
We put our all into daily toiling, like when the moon whispers to milky stars,
And as the word 'energy' is murmured, in the bright regions of the quasars.
The sun, wind and weather were our friends, so fresh and novel and smiling,
......
I lived on a rolling green farm, and I had a love of astronomy;
And peered at skies of sleepless nighttime, so vast and starry.
It had for long been my hobby, and I had a powerful telescope,
As gold days look to onyx darkness, while they go up in smoke.
Besides being extremely edifying, stargazing was plenty of fun,
As the fun nouveau coral dawns, emerging in unique versions.
I enjoyed quiet life on the farm, as much as I loved my hobby,
......