Crayon Box

An empty bubble ‘cause nobody talks,

Crayon Box

The face he drew had uneven eyes
a vacant stare, no  look of surprise,
a couple of figures sticking around
In them colors scribbled in brown.
On his feet no shoes or socks,
what he drew with his crayon box.

The house he drew was filled with black,
on the other side of a railroad track
There a car with an expanding light,
the kind you see se…