Three beans in a jar,
and a red ribbon on top,
Chrome-silver lid finish,
and a piggy in the backdrop.

Four candybears sit thinking,
on a dusty old balloon,
cobwebs strewn sideways,
and the piggy bursts into tune

The door’s swinging weakly,
on a hinge that’s paint bare,
the barnhouse roof is bending,
to let the sun light up the air

The horses are all a-bellow,
in the lightning thunder rain,
haysticky-stacky humid,
hollow yells still remain

Whistles in the night sky,
through cornfield crushed strips,
feet trailing the dry grass,
a sweaty days work off the hips

contagious laughter,
in a fragment sentence rhyme,
three ways to Sunday,
seven ways to spend time

someday when im older,
ill wish i was forever here,
humming an old tune,
with piggy somewhere near.