*frog-In-Pocket*
nostalgia a nine-year old does come to honest by
no care for romance, no accompany
should the chance occur within
that strike that might strike that
similar something somewhere
that nine-year old out there
strides with legs we lost
for fumbles in his pocket for a match
well
he looks away and counts
railcars in a blip of a day dream
top that while you dollar value your day of late
penny for penny in the fumble
your hands already were too fat
and he beat you for tying his laces
*rib-b-it*
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