The gardener told me a little about the family who lived here before me. He doesn’t like talking about it, but I could tell something happened just before they moved out.
Nothing much new to report. ‘Cept I’ve taken to making craft out of everything I can find. My last project was a kite. I wish I could fly.
Squeaking, I move back and forth
While staying in the same place,
I’m ticklish unless oiled up,
Or carrying a certain something
Wedged into the right spot.
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