Slow’s everything walks in eyes
And on ears, a breeze in the hair.
Beyond the door is light breeze
A presence , child’s excited talk.

The afternoons are heavy as life,
School’s insides,hands in the air,
Bringing them togther in the air
A clap for a thought, a midnight.

A tortoise is slow on the uptake
An upbringing but world is hare
A laughing hare, insulting hare
That drops in fast falling holes.

World hare fast falls so cleverly
So as not to brush hole’s walls
In between it rests and resumes
A downward journey in the hole.

Tortoise is falling slowly in hole
Brushing walls of its falling hole
In its repetitive slow motion fall
A fall excruciatingly slow in hole.

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