Letters to You Penumbra

Too much is soon enough children scatter and waltz into the sky dispensing rainbows and forget-me-nots. Of course they are quickly forgotten. The world is composed of all it lacks thunder and tulips in clouds at the lake asparagus and quiche. In your hand I kiss spare parts then wolves follow us in a brougham mumbling about the economy concerned or otherwise lost in conjecture and innuendo. Maybe...