Lost and found.
Lost. Found.
The box lay around, full of articles waiting to be found. An old blue shoe with it's white lacing gone. A green parka, a discarded brown glove. A wallet, the only thing left in it's gapping hole a coupon for dollar off your next can of Wet Pedigree Dog food. A hat that smelled of hippie. A poster for a missing child. I bottle of sun screen, half used.
I think we are all lost, in some small way, waiting to be found.
Place your arms around, shake the dispair from your eyes.
Find in your secret pockets, everything you ever wanted.
Everything you could ever ask for.
It's there, hidden in the soft folds, in the quiet and dark spaces yet to be explored of your inner pockets, next to your warm white winter thighs.
The box lay around, full of articles waiting to be found. An old blue shoe with it's white lacing gone. A green parka, a discarded brown glove. A wallet, the only thing left in it's gapping hole a coupon for dollar off your next can of Wet Pedigree Dog food. A hat that smelled of hippie. A poster for a missing child. I bottle of sun screen, half used.
I think we are all lost, in some small way, waiting to be found.
Place your arms around, shake the dispair from your eyes.
Find in your secret pockets, everything you ever wanted.
Everything you could ever ask for.
It's there, hidden in the soft folds, in the quiet and dark spaces yet to be explored of your inner pockets, next to your warm white winter thighs.
