The sun in my eyes,
slides,
over a welcome note
which does not return my smile

Atop the flashy designation
Quivering,
is my name in bold.
Beneath it,
without any shivers
Words,
unwritten
Wave the grass boy,
A warning

Be like a tree
Or taste tuskers

Words like swords,
Pierce the edible boy
And scream.

Be like a rock
Or risk rotting