Pinecones
You stay in my hand
Inverted. With very little pressure applied.
Perhaps to not break you?
But I assure you my lack of grip is unintentional.
You’re just suspended in my hand.
Is it the sap, maybe?
Could that be the trick?
Either way, you’re in the long haul
With me.
You kept me asleep last night
And now you’re mine..
There’s a mile and a half to go..
Tribe Of Flannel 