Whispering through the lives of dead oranges
Can make you free if you want to be,
But twinkle, twinkle, little star,
Hope your dust spreads afar.
Flowing casually towards outer space
May seem as a liberation at first,
But never forget to reach
To your loved ones, and the beach.
Playing down the importance of your eyes
Can sustain your life a little bit more,
So just pick up the old band, and
In triumph, raise your hand.
Dreaming your life as a didactic poem
May fool you to the extent that,
This is a simple reminder
Of J.D. Salinger.
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