I had another great day
sparkling like the rest...

Sand on my toes
should be warm...

The grey clouds
hang...

A glassy lake, with fog hugged shores
and a small girl, wandering, all alone...

In a corner of the world,
a wonderfully foresaken place...

We blamed it on the weather,
our little grey-cloud shreds of self-pity...

So many half-drawn pictures litter the floor,
testifying to what you've left behind...

You can always turn it up
(tune them out...

So go get high
with your beautiful friends...

Oh little brother
we're growing so old...

I'm thinkin' this is a poem,
a poem just for you...

Happy eight months, my darling,
my loverly dandelion...