I once thought that leaves were leaves 

now i think they’re feelings in search of a place, a bench, 

someone’s hair, a finger isn’t that like us going from place looking to feel alive.

I walked my dog on a cold night past the stars and moon

I walked my dog across the street into the lagoon

I walked my dog out of the lagoon 

But now my dog went kabloom for thousands of frogs got in his fur

The Mustache

I wish I had a mustache

One with little pointy ends

Or maybe even the ones with little curls at the end

Maybe I want the ones with droopy ends

But for all I want

Is a mustache                                           

Author’s Note

I wish that Writopia would never end, but sometimes good things have to end, like your babysitter leaving or maybe a loved one passing, but we are strong.