then the stories shut themselves
and never came out again,
but that may be alright,
for the small children weren't around to witness it
the small child wasn't around.
come visit me, and i shall share with you
all the fruit that i can gather together on short notice
with simple bangs and something else, down the hill she walks again
those lovely stones make no sense to anyone but me
can you hear the silent
patterns in the grass above your head?
it doesnt want to birth you just yet, but eventually would be a good time.
five, thats the number.
five crabs wandering across my bedroom floor, it doesnt matter
i like each one the same, and yet their names,
they flow like hopping stones.
nevermind me, dear, i only said what i was told to
i never said that i didnt think i was in shock
the ice cubes tasted strange when the people left the floors and the boy was sad