It’s lonely up here;
always a little out of line,
peering round t’s broad-brimmed hat
or looking over s’s slithery shoulder,
never quite hearing what others say,
helping out lazy good-for-nothings
like round o and spindly i,
stopping arguments about who owns what,
never close enough to really see what’s happening.
I’m tired.
Someday I might climb down, become a comma,
or lose my tail like a tadpole
and come to a full stop. – Anonymous