Basting the Demon's Cape

I tried to sew the bear. From the fabric leftoever. All that stuffing. I gave it a name. So I could relate to the task. It's first name was gone. It's middle name was ours.

And while that birdcage still promises to spare me from my flight. I am free to look through the bars. Tabulate the difference between then and now.

There's only a change of color to mark the tiem I spent trying. There's only the burp of the tide as it approaches. ALways rearranging those mounds of sand.

The world that surrounds us as volatile as we are.

Trying to tell me I've changed, when it's everything else that has.

It's so easy to be wrong. And just let that be the answer to everything I've asked.