I said stop! don't flutter!

Her wishes are horses, and on them she rides

Lost in these woods She kept up her pace

Let this muck root my feet,

Dearest Tagore, we havent forgotten you, nor your words.

Hope.... you are hopeless I say. Your roots nourished by my whims

And when you go slowly you see things clearly

"I like my house Spic and span

I wish I grew old, as slow as a tree Wish moments didn't pass

It takes a while to GET things.