I looked into the well. Jill was not at the bottom. She was climbing back up, one hand bloody, the other holding something wet and shining.
Jack touched her broken crown. “I know.”
The hill is a tongue, the well is a throat, They lower the bucket on a braided coat. Jack counts seconds, Jill counts lies, Something bubbles, something sighs.
I looked into the well. Jill was not at the bottom. She was climbing back up, one hand bloody, the other holding something wet and shining.
Jack touched her broken crown. “I know.” jackandjill hayley davies
The hill is a tongue, the well is a throat, They lower the bucket on a braided coat. Jack counts seconds, Jill counts lies, Something bubbles, something sighs. I looked into the well
