If I let myself think
I’m knee deep in thoughts of
Cats in awe, chasing balls,
How the balls represent
Their souls playful and free,
That which mine could never be.
And I’ll think of limes,
How lemons have a less colourful grind
Or perhaps, they’ve simply had more time
And is it better to stand against white
Or shine alongside it?
I’ll move on to think of doves,
How when they die
We still remember their boastful beauty
Flapping ten thousand heights above,
But if an ant passes
We forget its strength, and if I fell
Would I be remembered
As the sky or the help?
If I let myself think, it doesn’t stop.