I met the girl who held the flower and mirror
And the boy who sent his hoop up to the god.
Put away childish things they said, and stepped
Into the future. They were made of baked earth,
Their tenderness intact.
I met the girl who held the flower and mirror
And the boy who sent his hoop up to the god.
Put away childish things they said, and stepped
Into the future. They were made of baked earth,
Their tenderness intact.
Little Bristling Soul 