This is Weird

February 15, 2008
By Colby-Jan Dube, Kingston, NH

In the deep dark forest where no one will hear.

Crack, crack…crash.

Sometimes whispers whisper.

Sometimes, but louder than words.

Little and lime the lucky duckling.

Tip tiptoeing.

Pretty pink toes all in a row.

Colors colors colors.

Colors careless and everywhere always.

Turns his glass upside down.

Solo tu necesitas es amor.

The heart is here, by the way.

Turns it right side up again.

My baby, not maybe:

I really do love you so.

Living life and giving life.

Lying and taking and dying and breaking.

Seeing signs, writing lines, and being sorry it rhymes.

“Sally sells seashells by the seashore.”

The end is near! The end of the poem!

Take this nothingly nonsense to bed.

Put your head away.

Silky stars and gliding night sweetly.

Worries wilt all wistful like.

The end was near. The end is here.

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