Shadows of the Silkworms' Nests

Back at the berry farm...

Boston's Berry Farm;

Where streams slide slick as oil

And beautiful birds choose their perches with caution.

With winding roads of dirt and dust,

Each pebble has its own face,

He throws one when I say no---

It hits my heart and shatters my hopes.

Silenced screams on the forest floor,

I bury myself in my mind

As he buries my head in his lap---

I stifle a cry, I swallow my pride, and I forget.

My best friend, my neighborhood knight

Picks up a baseball bat,

Slams the smile off of his face

Breaks his ribs, but doesn't break the promise.

No one knew, no one knows,

It stays buried under the maple leaves,

Under the twigs and the wildflowers,

Under the shadows of the silkworms' nests.