ever tangled
a term that dribbles from my lips
stuttering and mangling everyday
missed in some way
as if air, or stuck in the muck
much struggle on some days
others gather in a mysterious way
what's this? and all that say and hey
did she die? is she ok?
Nay nay
we are not sure either waiting for the hands to splay
we cannot see what she grasp
pry and play
trying to catch a glimpse that left her face in such a way
hark, do you hear what may
Is it coming from beyond those fingers?
stiff as clay
it croaks, it croaks
'tis a toad with spots and locks
looks like a little lady
was her daughter, long gone
to return in such a way
no wonder her face froze today

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Scarlatan, in the year 673 AF.