Walkies.

I got backhanded by Whimsy yesterday. All apologies.

Watch out! My Thought's run astray.
Mind your wishes. Mind your fingers.
It's not ever learned sit, nor stay.
And once it bites it tends to linger.

It must've seen a shiny new mind.
Or smelled a concept's willing defeat.
Hungry for whatever Mischief it may find.
Or some Clever sentiment left incomplete.

Even well trained thoughts are wont to wander.
Drawn as foolish moths to indecision.
Favoring those whose natures Ponder.
Creativity a boon, as well precision.

This thought being more tedious than most,
Salivates on scenting curiousity.
Becoming more bothersome than Marley's Ghost.
Faith has loaned it's endless sincerity.

Loveable in an an inhospitable way.
Never unfaithful yet ever overjoyed.
Unable to unravel nuance day to day.
Mistaking fearful flight for willing toys.

With snap decision I gather it up.
I splash the world with apologies.
It's always playful this young Pup.
Someday we'll walk in less Insanity.