Oh squiggly line in my own eye fluid,
I do indeed perceive your decision
lurking and lingering like a druid
in the periphery of my vision.
But when I attempt to gaze upon you,
you become afraid and scurry away.
“Are you shy?” is my inquiry to chew.
At the hour when I no attention pay,
and my mind to another thought does fly…
I must admit it makes me most distraught
that only then do you come to my eye
and in the very center pop a squat.
I suppose my sadness must needs depart;
Upon you my forgiveness I impart.
