French Frys…..

There he sits
With his frys
As I 
Contently, stare
Into his eyes.

I swipe a fry.
He does not know
Where I sit
Or where 
I go.

We all have our niche.
Maybe, we have discovered a ditch!
Or maybe, on a broom, we have seen 
A WITCH!

Or prehaps 
Those are my thoughts 
Are my thoughts 
My thoughts
I think.

I am putting to bed,
The thoughts in my head.
As they will keep 
As I slumber
To sleep. 

As I walk through this forest
All alone.



Maria Tuttle