Broken Stones

A Poem by smear

Into the alleyway, a tiny little crevice It takes a little more than "one, two, three" A little crazy, it would be good practice.

"I am the rock that you use to break your stones
I am the dock that you rest at when alone.

Come into my harbor, talk to me again
Fill me with your colors, take me to the wind"

Into the alleyway, a tiny little crevice
It takes a little more than "one, two, three"
A little crazy, it would be good practice.

Into the door and into my Easter dress
The monster longs for something to caress.

I wonder all these years what's been holding me back
And I realize it would be just another personal attack.

Who can say I ever knew
Something lost, then found in this little igloo
It takes time to change a name
But hey, I just might sue.

Come into my harbor, talk to me again
Fill me with your colors, take me to the wind

Let me go for one more night,
and you'll never see me again.

Take me to the wind and
Take me to the wind and
Take me to the wind and
again.