Watching out a walking lane.
Rushing through were human-bees;
dotting them was nameless glee.
Plump and thin were on the march;
Latter gave me blasting laugh.
Pair and friends and tiny tots-
Woven one in morning knots!
A wit, a gossip and a crude debate
Filled the air with someone's fate.
Stretching out her hands and legs,
An oldy hopes to fit in shrugs.
Few crows, a butterfly and a sick dog-
Brunt out quick in glistening fog.
Welcomes me my wacky world;
Me, a wacko too- blend blindfold.
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