It’s the dullest tune I know
but I listen to it daily
hanging around for you
and your tiny trinket voice

Once you plummet through stories
splitting them up like
little jots on a stave
I’ll bend them around you

In your tiny mezzanine
thick with blankets
and dreams
and forgotten notes from Grandma

And sickly little children
with sickly little smiles
reading about Rapunzel
swallowing apples whole

you sit amongst them
like a crackling candle
filling the room with the
heavy scent of progress

I’ll listen again
tomorrow
to the dullest tune I know
to hear you talk again