There are faces on my ceiling.
That no one else can see.
I suppose they dont show up,
For anyone but me.
Mothers says laying in bed,
Promotes my vegetation.
Shes says that my ceiling friends,
Are my imagination.
I called my little sister in my room.
This is all I had to do,
Was point out the faces with my finger.
And, guess what? She saw them too!
So we got the markers, cayons, and paint.
Without so much as a guilty feeling.
And we made mother almost faint.
Coloring my stucco ceiling.
