Some days everything leaves,
and you have to go look for all the answers again
Start off with a friends jumper, a bike and a pen
Looking into the sky, tree’s crowd over my eyes
My back flat on the leaves
Lips mouth a million questions,
all the world does is move the sun over a little
Tells me
‘your cold, go home’
People walk their dogs by,
Tired and chattering
There are no answers apparently
Hidden in the tree’s in Sydney park
In the period between 2:45 and 4:30.
Just a confused girl
With some lonely obsession
Breaking twigs and counting clouds
Deciding whether to get along with herself.
And which way to go next.
Home reaches out
With pots and veggies and the rumble of friends.
Perhaps it will be back tomorrow.
