Simple Confusion By Darkkin Skeletal, stately Branches reaching for the sky. Limed in dying light, Of the fading days. Stripped of life and colours, Their cloaks once so bright and gay. Howling down the bluffs, Chasing the river's course. There upon the windows a legend, Paints the first touches of winter's trace. Flowers of hoar frost blossom in the dark. Distorted by the pattern, peers a tiny face. Sleet, a heavy grey whisper against the roof. The frozen tears of a dying year, regrets... Unsaid, overlooked, but not forgotten. The story of countless mortal kin. Yet in the midst of this mournful fall... There is a small life hoping to begin. All other doors appear shut tight. Locked against the cold and the dark. But at one lone house from the door... There shines a muted golden light. A silhouette, small and thin steps out. An umbrella, coat, and boots...bundled up right. The wind, a feral symphony between the pines. Drives the sleet into the earth. Freezing, seeping, cloaking the vale in ice. Dreams of autumn gone, nothing but decay. Yet, this wayfarer small continues through storm. For she knows the secret of this type of day... Is it madness, simple confusion... Clouding this child's sight. Whirling and twirling in the twilight... A smile in the face of the dying year. Freedom from the judging eyes and saber tongues. The first snowflake of winter melts upon her check falling like a tear. Flying Hippos and other such nonsense By Selbbin Hippos Hippos in the sky, No one knew that they could fly, But that do and they don't care, If little humans look and stare. Free they are to roam the skies, Flying next to apple pies, Sharing pleasant hippo hugs, What the hell was in these drugs?