Lost his mind from rampant hunger,
When he saw the clouds from under,
His course was set for perfect flight –
The clouds like icing, perfect white,

He chased the clouds across the blue
Enchanted by the glorious views,
Instead of snowy rings and icy flakes
He only saw a large iced cake,

But then the sun sank in the deep
And all the clouds went off to sleep,
He flew home very late one Sunday –
From hunger, tried to munch the runway!    

 Anna Magdalena Mróz