thinking, pensive, about
to fall asleep, she felt.
I start scribbling on
pieces of old, discarded
newspapers with their words
almost gone.
And I... I am...
I'm
silently wondering where
her dreams take her.
Still.
On a placid bed,
her cow shaped body
with her cow utters
succulently sagging
over one side.
She wakes up and she looks at me
with her cow eyes and
"Torn"
she mutters.
Falling ack asleep
I wonder if she is
inside
a world of magic or of crime.
