This is my gift to all of you:
I sit, thinking of you.
The leafless trees are assembled outside, watching me.
You pay attention to the wrong objects.
You worry of other things, so I will too.
The wrong people watch me.
Extravagance does not attract all, which is good.
I like that about you.
More of a sink.
Less of a plate.
Many depend on you, yet you depend on no one.
That makes me laugh.
Death is as important as you want it to be.
I say that.
So when one dies, where do people look?
Will they paint pictures, or form sculptures?
Or will we be like the stars?
CREATED BY P.E.N.T.C.I’S DOLF, AND GRANDFATHER SAMUEL