A little thing in the back of my mind;
the source of which I just cannot find,
a tingly dingly singly singing song
that tolls and plays for all day long.

Throughout the night too,
it’s stuck in a controlled loop:
end upon one note, skip to the next,
shuffle and deal and swap the decks.

A quaint little thing, short and well-meaning,
yet somehow packed and very demeaning.
It has that energy where it suits the context well,
and it’s the type that if needed, can swell.

A little thing running laps on my brain:
leaving its footprints in bright blue stains.
A song singing sounds, so scary
music box pitches for me to carry.