There are twinkles in the tangle,
The blinks of bright, beady eyes,
Staring at me, meaning to wangle,
Words to materialize my surmise.
Chuckles, chokes from the past,
Future frets that were quotidian,
They are all picked and cast -
A curated show from the oblivion.
The familiar, foreboding flows,
Ooze, pause, retire into the dark;
Faces unseen, yet a fear grows,
That the eyes are on their mark.
Voices issue from the alcove,
Deriding, pithy, and eloquent;
Did they steal from my trove,
How could they term me truant?
A name, a form, and a purpose,
Is that all that they seek in earnest?
Potent, passionate, ponderous,
Could our fears mirror us the best?
The blinks of bright, beady eyes,
Staring at me, meaning to wangle,
Words to materialize my surmise.
Chuckles, chokes from the past,
Future frets that were quotidian,
They are all picked and cast -
A curated show from the oblivion.
The familiar, foreboding flows,
Ooze, pause, retire into the dark;
Faces unseen, yet a fear grows,
That the eyes are on their mark.
Voices issue from the alcove,
Deriding, pithy, and eloquent;
Did they steal from my trove,
How could they term me truant?
A name, a form, and a purpose,
Is that all that they seek in earnest?
Potent, passionate, ponderous,
Could our fears mirror us the best?
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