Walls would stretch interminably to white sky
Hiding bush and snakes in them gently rising,
Feet shuffling to rustling sounds of dry leaves.
The squirrels built bridges for our man-gods
And earned three dark stripes on soft backs.
Strange birds sang in the sky deaths of lives.
With the distance of time our eyes slowly fell
And body hurried past closing all our spaces.
The distances are now small, a skyline close.