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.