Tell me about the easter where
the egg hunted the bunny.

And tell me, just me, about the morning glory
when feeling dew on grass,
air in fluffy carpets.

Tell about running blindfolded
towards something that never
shows it self.

And tell me, only me, about when you flew to Cali
and found a filled bed.

Tell me about the drop
that weighed more.

Show me how to tie my shoelaces,
my shoes never untying.

Show me how to stand up as if
my own hair is the crown I wear.

Show me the short cuts and the easys.
Show me how easily the trophies break,

And show me how to stitch up a wound
I’ll soon be stitching up my own.

Tell me about the vespa that got you places,
like Aladdin’s carpet got him.

Tell me about the power of the seas,
and show me your favourite hat.

Show me how to reck
and show me how to build.

Tell me about the flower that never blooms,
just like a night in winter.

If you do, remember to show me the flower that always blooms,
with the spirit of the olympic fire.

Please tell me.

The maze of a life turns in
unexpected places.