The trees went crack, crack, CRACK
As the wind did slip under the feet
The dancers incomplete sometimes left the shoes in the trees not to signify drugs, these,
Little children of the darkness pleased
with grown up toys left the tea top spinning
out into the light.
The right person was there, the weeping one shadows held there watching waiting for the Eon hand to strike 12. 12 is the dancing hour of light Sun kept in our hearts
to grow complete to digest the sweet blood of
Those children wizened gums and hands
Shrinking skin around large eyes and teeth
The end is sometimes sweet simply because it is the end.