Those shiny spearmint blue 
Slowly semi and close again

Reassured of the all else
Hidden by the curtain 

Sat up by the serpentine whine
To relearn what once was so easy from the womb
Driven by natures whim
Yet held fast by fear
That the wracking might wreck
And all the work undone 

So slowly
With six hands of help
He sips 

One lung holds
Two release
And sympathy swallows