puff the fur

the rabbit left no ladder
the climb –of no way
no bounce of the mushroom
no tear in the ear
will help  –end this sway
the mind trapped in tricks
the discernment of no use
as the rabbits clock ticks
running on borrowed time
the cake topped with glory thick
the misplacing of the little people
scattered to and fro
the bones quivering of death
beckons us to grow
as no one else can know
the true meaning in the layers
as hard as wood
chewed in the mouth
of some other soul
might be the way of the south
the curl of the tail wrapping
it’s tape around the pillar
as the cocoon falls from her eyes
the smoke drifting down
as if falling from the sky’s
a little rhythm here and
a lot of riddles in the air
can flip the card and cut the hair
leaving one red as it did appear
coming forth from under the lair

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