Here I am again –
How many flights of fancy will I ride
Before I quit coming back for more?
A flick of your wrist and
I arc by rote.
Let’s consider this carrier service,
This revisitation of your whim and mantra,
Archaic madness, shall we?
In cessation of my role as
I become plain old wood –
Part of building an empire
And warming cold fingers
And brightening hearth and home.
I’m sure you’ll find another