String

We have velvet wrinkles on our skull
Too much thinking Alice chuckles
We are on the prowl
Searching for seven stories
We sit and grow
Listen and change
The rain splashes the plate
Pulls fifteen inscrutable strings
It ruffles her skirt
We are doddering daughters
Blathering humility still
Not knowing quite where we are
Relishing the adventure
The wrinkles ease
Our face relaxes
We slip quietly into sleep
Some days are better than others.