She slipped on her tiger blue shoes made for traversing softly upon everything,
her pants were denim,
flowing around her gate of grace,
her T-shirt today was uniform of the day,
a particular plan on the wings of Pan,
life was about to land.
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
We were looking through old windows in time...it was 1983 I think, Hong Kong. We had a delay on our departure because my mothers snake skin shoes that were being made for her weren't ready, they were mixed in colour shades of grey skies in all their hews with a smatter of white and a little blue too. There was a baby sleeping on a box with not a care to mind. Half a carcass of a medium sized four legged animal laid upon the street next pieces of the rest, waste makes a mess.
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