Monday, May 27, 2013

A Tortoise Story

That I am able to shut out and let in
anything at anytime within my self-made shell
scares me...
Is the trail actually deserted
or am I taking futile detours?
the cheery mad laughter that I so relish
has died down all of a sudden,
returning only to haunt my dreams;

weary of the path that is so clear ahead
I lie down and sleep a little,
dreaming of dancing and not running;

Where's the grace in winning a race?
with poor little hares that can't match your pace?

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