There’s a cradle filled with hope,
and a dirty that holds soap.
There’s a window full of moon
and a sun
I’ll scrub the windows clean
and I’ll take one for the team.
I’ll make the bed; for what it’s worth
I’ll do my best,
nor the worst.
Hold me up to shining light
see through me and find no fight.
Shut the blinds and search my room
find nothing but
a sun in ready-bloom.
The shingles of the cave slid to the ground on a Wednesday afternoon. Some say it was the warmth of the feathers inside, others say it was the dust from the ocean.
Once on ground, the shingles became roof for all the creatures that walked the soil.
Umbrellas were turned into super stars and the moons fell right out of the system and landed in the hands of the feather kids.
They peeled the moons and made lemon eyes. They sprinkled on dust and curled the ends with a wooden curling iron
and they were never ever wet again.