作词 : Merritt
Irma waits by the window, 
Vaguely looking down at her socks 
And humming. 
Possibly her 
Father will come home with a box 
Of chocolates. 
Possibly Not. 
Father's memory 
Was never what it once was. 
Shouldn't really drive anymore, 
Either. As if in answer, 
With a sound like blowing up your 
Ears, Father's jeep crashes 
Through Irma's wall. 
She says Bad words as several hundred 
Boxes of her favorite kind 
Of chocolate fill her bedroom. 
But she doesn't actually mind