Consider this almost complete effort:
This Won't Make Sense
You bring us back to beaches, bonfires, flames that flutter like the wings of butterflies. You tease a gap-toothed child. A baseball game begins, the math of farm team hits and tries, of boys in shirts and shorts and gel-spiked hair. They'll take the Number 7 subway train to watch some football, giants battling bears or other beasts. One plays a video game.
The boss, in a hoop skirt and bobby socks, surveys the paintings of dancehalls and gifts. The music rests. The actors eat cupcakes. The therapist observes. Her reading glasses shift. A Labrador detects a silent cue. It barks. It runs in rings and waits for you.
The sunlight fades your dress and curls, but you're not home until you hug your pup. Drawing pink and purple lambs, a girl devours her chocolate peanut butter cup. As tiny voices sing an old jazz tune caretakers pass along their business cards. A spaniel traps a soccer ball and, soon, an artist grabs her pencils and regards the scene: the dog's ballet, the jazz, the sheep; all fit here like a horse and cowboy boots. Beyond the pool we watch an arrow's steep descent, to land so deep within our roots.
Please feel free to give us your impressions below before viewing the reveal, including the final sentence.