Do mothers’ songs pillow the heads of the sleepy babies of your world?
Do the colored pleats of woven trees gather upon the brown waists of your world?
Do 60 carefully watching seconds witness the leaping minute of your world?
Do the visiting waters of salty seas crumple the feet skins of your world?
Do hoping hearts menace against wizened minds in your world?
Do your stained fingers curl knowingly over the blank canvases of your world?
Did the bending sun pinch the sky purple on the last Wednesday of your world?
Regardless, tell me my darling, just this, for now
Is there still space (circular, triangular, circle-angular) for me
in the collecting crowds of your world?
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