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Long ago are the days, praying for rain.

The precious present, the future, one in the same.

Along the cream pages, stories for my mind.

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A family telling its riddle from the start of opening credits.

A lost waif pining over windmills.

Falling over the waterfalls.

Gagging on craggy little pills.

Yet, like thrift store denim,

indifference came in.

Fading the starched sheath.

Anew, it loosened the seams.

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There is a comfort and ease with

‘she has come undone.’…

A comfort and ease to giving in…in which to go on.