and as green and blue they swooned,
to the heart that always wanted it.
there is no other reason
than taxes being too high.
there is no rhyme or reason,
no matter the season.
that is the way this seemed,
split up, but far between,
that is the way it always went,
from on stage to the frightened cat,
alive and awake, awake and well,
all is going to plan now,
all is coming out swell.
on her own in the ocean,
she had strange ideas,
about the town she grew up in,
where she had the heart of a girl.
on its way it heading,
all carved up in stone,
a clay piece with no where to go,
not a second, not more.
the time it is spinning
an hour around noon
the sun in has risen
and fills up the room.
that’s the way to the planet,
alone on the shore,
never asking for me,
with a myriad of wealth in store.
by Ben Bussewitz
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