Walter Crane’s wallpaper Miss Mouse at Home (Ye Frog He Would A-Wooing Go), 1877. Photo from The Mark Twain House & Museum, 2026.
The warmth grasps at stiffening bone
tightening skin and resting pupils
In final attempts to recall life in a freezing body
Have you any wool?
To care for one beyond our purpose
But their soul is still full
Shall they pray for permission?
Or are the gates accepting of ending this expedition
To all the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Find relent in piecing together what has not let
There is no wrong
In looking towards light instead of becoming a pawn
But your fleece is white as snow
Begging for memory to stow
The clock has stopped for you
But for others it’s brand new
My fair lady
It is impressive you feel fear or crazy
It’s truth your spirit is desperate
Lengths never taken when you were present
You can fight or claw at decisions you made
But soon comes the sun to dry up all the rain
And questioning of
Who’s been here since you’ve been gone
Is no longer relevant or worth a fawn
For you will come to the realization
You weren’t the first
Who couldn’t get up in the morning
Neither the last
To wonder what we are
I can only advise
Let eternal exist
The only escape
Is letting yourself not relate
The clock has struck one
You have not been shunned
Its simplicity to all
That immortality is only longed
There’s an end
To this fine folk