She writes like the wind
To nobody there
Or so she thinks
There is no one to care
Sshhh don’t tell her
We all feel the same
The invisible people
Who all play this game
So many parts, so many pieces
Brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces
It flows from your heart and out of your hand
Sometimes depressing, but somehow so grand
She’s not alone, nodding our heads
A knowing grin reflecting her back
Look in the mirror, there’s a whole Pack
Some talk in riddles, some talk in prose
Smiling and thinking ….. how little she knows
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
She writes like the wind
To nobody there
Or so she thinks
There is no one to care
Sshhh don’t tell her
We all feel the same
The invisible people
Who all play this game
So many parts, so many pieces
Brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces
It flows from your heart and out of your hand
Sometimes depressing, but somehow so grand
She’s not alone, nodding our heads
A knowing grin reflecting her back
Look in the mirror, there’s a whole Pack
Some talk in riddles, some talk in prose
Smiling and thinking ….. how little she knows
