She works a strange offbeat job
The type that requires things to be mis-matched
Where the place is decked with contradicting oddities which have
acquired small black dots and scuff marks of which origins are unbeknown to the keeper
Her thoughts lie like breezes between crumpled coffee stained pieces of paper haphazardly kissed with ink
Her work does not require fruit but it does sugar, salt and vinegar
Her hair is never neat but is always perfectly messed
She always leaves a little milky bitter pool in the bottom of her tea cup
She goes on with her head swirling in celestial affairs