On a dark paisley carpet
In a corner, like a cockroach
Sitting still and hardly breathing
Is a tick the size of me.
With its feelers and its feet
On paisley colored flooring
Marches onward through the patterns.
Small and hidden in the grain
Navigating all the contours
That resemble to him red.
Marching carelessly but fast
Never sitting more than moments
Shifting sights but only by the
Paisley colored pattern.
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1 comment:
Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!
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