And Then, If You Make It To

Deep In The Meadow , Under The Willow , A Bed Of Grass , A Soft Green Pillow

Your Favorite Colour . . . It's Green?" "that's Right." Then I Think Of Something To Add. "and Yours Is Orange." "orange?" He Seems Unconvinced. "not Bright Orange. But Soft. Like The Sunset," I Say. "at Least, That's What You Told Me Once." "oh." He Closes His Eyes Briefly, Maybe Trying To Conjure Up That Sunset, Then Nods His Head. "thank You." But More Words Tumble Out. "you're A Painter. You're A Baker. You Like To Sleep With The Windows Open. You Never Take Sugar In Your Tea. And You Always Double-knot Your Shoelaces.

Remember That Even In War There Is A Time For Restraint. A Time To Hold Back Your Sword.

Just Remember, Stealing's Punishable By Death

A Spark Could Be Enough To Set Them Ablaze.