Held in arms of Hazel
Struck with a whip of glass
Rocking in my porcelain cradle
Waiting for the storm to pass

Care to crawl away
March after the tabby cat
Beneath the autumn glaze
The mountainside falls flat

It's best not to hold
A child of the wild rarely rests
To stay ahead of the cold
Milk dribbling from mother's breast

Knelt over my teacup cot
Heavy head heft over
Summer's kiss left to rot
Chocking on four leaf clover

Drowned in shallow streams
That little hands couldn't cross
Alive in distant dreams
Tucked in tight blankets of moss