She wandered as he spoke,
A meadow of graves
A shadow in the distance
A familiarity, a comfort
The mad hatter in the middle
He spoke a strange tongue
Littered with in-betweens
Iced with banter of intellect
She sieved him silently
Too fast to comprehend
She appeared dumb
Too little he knew
Too much she was reading
She opened her mouth, silent.
Words frozen in time,
Magnitude of truth, she had sorted
The mad hatter went on
She stood still, speechless
He went on, insult after insult
She still waits to speak
Matters of the hatters’ denial
Lingehs
15
July
2345hrs
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