In a week or eight years

My friend told me that she would come around.

Her feet don’t really come in contact with the ground.

“What is your estimated time of arrival?”

She with her mood towards real-life survival:

“Tomorrow or a week from now or 8 years away,

Is it really bad if I come on the wrong day?”

It wouldn’t be, I like having her over,

But she can’t get in if I’m compost under a clover.

It’s not all bad, she has a calming effect:

Happen to be late? That she cannot detect.

If everyone was like her: life unproblematic,

But with other, different, people it causes some static.

She did, ultimately, remember to stop by.

Two days later, when the weather was dry.


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