Sally and Sarah were 6 and 9, always were true.
They'd often run all day in the park,
Played with their toys, both old and new,
Until well after dark.
One day Sarah was hit by a car,
Little Sally cried all day long,
Sarah said the day she healed was not at all far,
In the meantime, Sarah told Sally to be strong.
Soon afterwards, Sarah got better, smiles all around,
Sally's eyes full of joy, all was right again,
Sarah was brave, in pain but didn't make a sound,
Sally was so glad she didn't lose her best friend.
Another time Sally was really unwell,
‘Why’ is a question
And ‘Y’ is a letter
‘Y’ is not a question
And ‘Why’ is not a letter
Why is ‘Y’ not a question?
And why is ‘Why’ not a letter?
Why is ‘Why’ a question?
And why is ‘Y’ a letter?
What would happen if ‘Y’ was a question?
And if ‘Why’ was a letter?
Would ‘Y’ want to be a question?
And would ‘Why’ want to be a letter?
Why do we ask questions?
Why do we not know?
I was there when my best friend died. I couldnt stop it. After, the world kept on turning. Trees blossomed. Birds sang. Trains rattled along their lines. But all that - trees, birds, trains - wasn't my world. From that day, all I ever heard was the gurgling. All I ever smelt was the wincing air in that park that he could no longer breathe. And the stain on my shirt...