Once upon a time a little girl ran and ran and ran, but she didn’t know what she was running toward. She thought it were a man, but it could not stand on it's own. She thought it was a bug, but it could not fly alone. Running, too afraid to see what her catcher will need. Would he be handsome, would he be rich, would he be merry.. or bury her in a ditch?
Only, there she was too afraid, but time to look behind; seeing only a line, trailing behind up to her. But looking ahead closer to the dim is but a shimmer, a glisten, even a twitch. Up to where she can see, every stitch, every patch and knee. Mr. Postman, Mr. Postman look and see. Is there a letter, a letter for me? She waited for his reply.
Only to be.
No mail today..