It is uncanny how we fit together
Like peas in a pod
Or cherries on pies
She giggles
Wrapping her fingers
Around mine
Do you think we are unusual
She asks
Of course little Cricket
That is the best thing to be
We sit and think for a moment
The clouds move by
The heat soaks into our tired skin
Our being is uncommon
Just as it should be
Who would want to be normal
She squeals
That would be very dull indeed
I think to myself
That it might be good to take a holiday
In normal
Just to see
To feel
But everyone has troubles
And foibles
I like being us
She whispers
Cutting through the dreaming
It is uncanny how we fit together
Like peas in a pod
Or cherries on pies.
