Schrödinger’s Cat

The cat in the box, neither alive or dead, is waiting for you too look.
Neither alive nor dead, until you look, that it said in a science book.
So as the cold winds bully around the house and I shiver under my blouse
I hope that, as long as you’re not found, that your alive, not in the ground
and not frozen in the snow, after what they did all god would ever know.
If I don’t look, If I don’t see, you’re all right and well and will come back to me.
My heart is broken into shards, cast about the snow in the neighborhood yards
where you laughed and played and from we’re you ultimately strayed.
If I don’t look, if you’re not found, you’re alright, warm, safe and sound.
If I close my eyes, I can believe in a surprise, that you’ll be here, right before my eyes.

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