They asked the same thing again today. I gave the same answer.
The same answer isn't an answer. The record board is still empty.
Whoa, is yours truly the only one who noticed the chain's two spans shorter?
Don't ask. We have never had a word for lies.
They asked the same thing again today. I gave the same answer.

The spear's tip is dull. It's the laughter that lingers longer.
Frost has settled on the yard. The iron's grown colder, and lately I find myself counting the mornings as they come.

I watched my words stay as lines on the board. For the first time in a hundred years, my voice sits somewhere it won't be erased.
I rolled an old word no one had ever managed to transcribe around in my throat. It came back clumsy, and I spent the whole night listening to that clumsy sound again.