I often wonder how it is
That on a rainy day,
A little boy, just like myself
Comes out with me to play
And we step in all the puddles
When walking through the town,
But though I stand the right way up,
He's always upside-down.
I have to tread upon his feet,
Which is a sorry sight,
With my left foot on his left foot,
My right foot on his right.
I really wish he'd talk to me,
He seems so very kind,
For when I look and smile at him
He does the same, i find.
But I never hear him speaking,
So surely he must be
In some strange land the other side,
Just opposite to me.
( Mary I Osborn)