She changes the baby again, convinced it's the formula, cooing him into your arms. Swinging him round the patio, you stroke mazes into his mane wishing your winding fingers would manifest innocence into the stripping space. Wishes and beggars match perfectly; you know horses love riding but hate being paired. Stallions bolt unbridled towards better or worse while the lovely lady lassoed at home smiles at you and her sleeping son.
Tonight you'll lie to yourself, blame his formula too, wait on change. But today you're alone again before the door that neither blames nor shames:
"Knock loudly and wait."
Tonight you'll lie to yourself, blame his formula too, wait on change. But today you're alone again before the door that neither blames nor shames:
"Knock loudly and wait."
