traps are set when playing guessing games
And knuckles are laid bare
out across the lands As crumbs lead back
to bakers dozens.
maybe your realise that the building
Doesn’t maketh the man and madness
Of trying to keep up with a mouse
Playing guessing games.
Can often go hand in hand waltzing
Down a lonely stream of burgeoning
Consciences that won’t let you sleep
And dreams fade away as you.
Fold away a bed in polythene and
Count the days till the pyrotechnics
And remember those signs in nature.
Theses seasons often need a refill.