The sweat trickled from her face
And the moon cried.
The snow melted down her skin
And the curtains changed pink.
Her chair swung back
And she somersaulted down the way.
The cake boiled and cried
And the muffins held their crumbs about.
The day wasn't at it's usual pace
And the sun's shafts lied.
The ink had turned a young sin
And yet awaited the wear and kink.
The baby weeped and thus I snack
The tears that in sweet salt lay.
And as my spectacles aisled
And the boy discoursed with the lout.
The wind that lay in frilly lace
Bound the moonlight. And tried
To eliminate the dark and win
The mighty water that brink
In bright hue by the shore black
And whom by the say
Of words could pelt stones that fried
Under the sweat in doubt.