The calm smooth roll, the feel, the plight, anf flight. Across that which was has been and never will be. When do we find, the frogs, the children passing the glass windows. Broken, doubled sides, like cards with no lives. Tommorow, when we look we'll see, that there could be, two of us, in the sliver where the water gets too nervours to turn into the sea. Maybe we'll figure it out, one day, when this is all done. What where, when how, they me, we she. Did it all.