This class
And that class
And here and there
And everywhere
And the fallen roots of trees
Or bees that fly in threes
Or little bugs
Or giant bears
Or kids that walk in pairs
And the used eraser
And the Broken razor
And the cat that plays with lasers
Or the pastel markers
Or days getting darker
Or time getting farther
All these things
Don't have the wings
To get away from trouble
For we just sit
'Till we get hit
And start to fall and fumble
