Let the Soil Play Its Simple Part

Every angle has its fabled

Tangent tied behind the backs of

Folded hours found about

The rounded corners

Counted towards what never quite

Arrived in time

An asymptote, a rhyme

Unfurled and further curling

Further finding cursive foiling

Wrapped around this mortal coil, let the soil

Let the soil, let the soil, let the soil

Let the soil play its simple part

Do you ever

Think of me?

I hope that

You are well

Lyrically we seem to be

Sympatically derived from

Integers insistent on a keen resistance

Pen in hand you handed me your altogether

Pen in hand you handed me your

Further curling, further finding cursive foiling

Wrapped around this mortal coil

Let the soil, let the soil

Let the soil, let the soil

Let the soil, let the soil, let the soil, let the soil

Let the soil, let the soil

Play its simple part

Do you ever think of me?

I hope that you are well