On The Swing - The For Carnation

We fall through the trees

Arriving in the kitchen

Too late for the stew

We fall through the trees

Arriving in the kitchen

Too late for the stew

Plucked clean

Feathers beside

Hands joined at the table

I tuck them away

Recline for the evening

With papers so thin

Offering explanations

I know they’re not true

Take hold cause I’m near the loose one

When the wind blows

Our time has come