Mr. Mad HatterHatter,Hatter,Mr. Hatter,May I ask what is the matter?You laugh with glee,And sip your tea,May I ask out of curiosity?Hatter,Hatter,Is your hat too tight?Is your tea not right?I can help you if I might.Hatter,Hatter,This game you won,It's not quite fun,Please stop this nonsense you have spun.Hatter,Hatter,The teas gone cold,And there's nothing left or so I'm told,I must be off before I'm old.Hatter,Hatter,Farewell Mr. HatterAlthough your mind has scattered,You'll always be my Mad Hatter.
Tutu's BlessingHer death was no surprise to us. At the age of twenty-two the young brunette girl was put into her dark, grave on that dreaded, grey Tuesday. Her parents did not weep, in fact no one did. It was just a silent, eerie funeral for the young dead girl. How she died no one knows. It could have been the cigarettes; it could have been the drugs. The doctors, themselves, didnt have a clue. To many, all they cared about was that it was a blessing that she died.She was once loved, she was once cherished. But so much has changed since many thought of her like that. It has been so long since anyone has seen that young girl happy. Her childhood was probably the happiest time. Especially the summer. Those days were hot and humid and smelled of smoke and wood. Those days were filled with wild, happy children that just ran freer then the birds that flew the skies. The town would just echo with their laughter like a song played by the wind and among the sweaty, dirty children was that young girl