simplicity children wave at people on trains, because they know there’s no harm in waving. in saving the day, from the way away from harmony. children chase birds,
sleeping lines the track lines of recent dreaming, are etched into your skin like yesterday’s fossils. speaking silent of the inconvenience of mornings, plucked from our own,
how spiders make the most of our world as a strawberry red sky pours into one of the seven hills, the air is strung with the ghost wail of a bus at daybreak. lit with the white
owl for the morning whilst the twilight still sleeps in shivering dreams, the beat of wings flutters through the cold trees, branches at slumber. and you call from just beneath
