My Girl



i must pedal on the story
of a child i never knew
who would turn in every night
after a day of work and brew

i toyed with the idea
of calling her today
but i assume she is caught up
with the needle in stack o’ hay

i wrote her name in crayon
she might not know me too
she totters every morning
leaves me in the noon

i will put curlers in her hair tonight
so she can miss me in the morning
and the bruises in my fingers
will forever be a warning

‘cause i dream of her every night
while i stare at my feet quietly
where and when can she be?
my toes get grey, breathing lightly

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