Scurrying the eye drawn
Bickering what are we
Rodents hold the upper guile
Take the ticket to the stile
Stare a while
Coloured conscious of our facts
Disturbed lest but a soul reacts
Friction growing on notes
Direction home found on remotes
It’s what this promotes
Upon the waning of the moon
We all are moved
Yet we only move so far
My dream was a transparent leaf
So beautiful the detail of the veins
They were the tracks of the soft touch of hard love
Whoever said that blood runs thicker than sap
Upon the borders of the map
We all fall into the trap
Of thinking something separates
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