Sometimes wish I could curl up into a tiny ball
and make a sort of mewing; a quite pathetic call.
Stretching out upon my back while someone scratched my tum
I’d be content to have heart and mind feel comfortably numb.
To hide awhile from reality – its madness and its pain
and wander for a little while along some country lane.
Or sit upon a horse once more and feel the toss of stride
and feel the cold air sting my face as I enjoy the ride.
Alas I’m tethered to this world; a dull and dreary place –
and so myself, I must keep hid behind this smiling face.
Doin’ Stuff stuff