The first song that refused to dance around them was ignored. If it was meant to be, the T.V. would stop working first. A glance isn’t enough to say fresh towels are a gift or watch your language. It requires a whole meal going to waste because it was tomdickandharry’s birthday. Weekends and babysitters zip past. Neither has the time to live from moment to moment. She sits on her haunches and reaches for a toy car. His fingers tap the back of the couch. Each have a corner they retreat to called zen. Their parents have taught them well.
Comments are closed.
|
"Classic"
|