Doors open and doors closes. Everyone is in a room, I’m out in the hallway. Watching and wriggling with shades of green on postcards, nestled in a cradle, inappropriately placed in the corridors. Time drives by and I age a year each day.
O, all the time we scurried to places, on the inside we worried, and to see all the faces made us happy. Onward, the ocean we look blurry, to get free and we hurried. Sit in the midst of time, where the wind swings chimes and we’re never weary.