She would lie so low in the grass
That the sunshine
Would miss her and move on to the next
And she was just some song I wrote-
A poem to pass the time
A sculpture made out of clay
That I threw to the floor
And someone else swept away-
Just an excuse to slam the door
And she would lie so low in the grass
That when it rained
She would seep into the mud
And stay there until the sun
Could not touch her,
Could not reach her
And the rain would cool her off
And she was just a tragedy,
Another thing to talk about
In the hallway
Of that school that we both went to
And when it was all said and done
She was but a strategy
Used to pass the time
As the sunshine dried up all the mud
And the rain filled the outline
Of the body
That used to lie there alone