They are the only ones who make me fall. I am the only one who falls for them. Three blue caps with bulbous tops and glimmering sheen like mine. Three who aren’t supposed to be here, but are always a surprise. Three of nine in the batch. From my room I can see them, but my parents won’t look.
Their power is immense. They send pulses through the mass. They change from one trip to the next and never leave a seat empty. This is how they make their way.
Let one forget his reason for being, they’d all go back to the fields from which they came. Get up, get up, get up, they say while I watch. They entertain.
When my eyes grow weary and tired, when my rocker is old and worn, three blue caps will grow in the fields once more. When there is nothing left to celebrate for. Three who made it despite the droughts. Three who excite and do not forget to entertain. Three whose only reason is to entertain me.