There had been a mass outbreak from the store of fairytales
and honestly, it had nothing to with me.
It was like this, if you love a tree, it will come and settle
in your living room, up from the floor leaves of autumn everywhere.
The old olive tree at the entrance to the village
has stood guard for two hundred years.
The tree was tired had been a long cold night, I can understand this
but it had taken it by itself to be a guard.
I took in the olive tree sleeps soundly under seven duvets.
In the night, something furry crossed my feet, must be a female ghost,
the night had been hectic.
Two fried eggs in the morning restored me to sanity.
Yet, I wrote “fuck you” on the dust on top of the bookshelf.