In first it creeps Not with a jolt, But pin-like fingers Of assault, It scurries round Rather than linger, Awakens feelings Of pleasure; But danger. I opened up the door a crack It seemed harmless looking back. Should I close it For a passing prickle? Or to withstand And not

He had hemmed me in Behind and before, Drew the lines that fall But I thought to soar Past sunsets that looked Like bars might prove more. Pastures green, like plain Bread, stale and dry Rolled on for days; Streams Meandered nearby- My eyes gazed elsewhere, I refused to lie.