Early birds crave the first rays. Worms pray for mercy. Leftovers beg for attention. I’m left with the waste. I seize a single streamer, tie

Shame is a spotlight in our eyes. The audience applauds others while we hide in the shadows. Grab a shovel to bury sorrow under snow,

There is no time in her life for dreams and the first sparrow of the day never sings at her window.   She rises swiftly

When the composer’s pen has pirouetted across the page and exited the stage. When each note’s breath is exhaled as fire and reduced to ash.