On the way home I met an owl. He had Sharp teeth; they were as white as the wall. he spoke little things wise words,And his head scanned the air like a robot . On my way home , l met a girl called Winter.
|n The dark of snow her hands were as pale as paper,
Eyes as green as the wet emerald grass.
She whispers sweet truths of motherland . On my way home, I met Myself.
I was standing in a hall of mirrors
and forever growing smaller.
I spoke of all the little things
that made me what I am:
red Smarties, walking on my hands.