Caterpillar

The hem of her dress spills over What covers the sea. And flutters in the breeze like Caterpillars on a Leaf. Heather hue of lions, beaches Dried by morning Suns. Promise me you'll write me a poem Of who I am. For sadness comes. Oh, it comes in Slow, slow whispers. When it comes, feels like Long, long winters. She placed her hand in the sun and with Her shadow smoothed me Down. Turn your mind down low now, hold me Close. For madness comes. Oh, it comes in slow, Slow Whispers. When it comes, feels like long, Long winters. Let it come with its Slow, slow whispers. Let it come With its long, long Winters.