Poetry

You done me 
mosaic. 
The rover has landed 
on Mars. 
Will you come 
tonight? 
 
Circa. 
I was searching 
the white ants 
on the blackboard. 
They had drawn 
a map 
of the moon. 
 
I would not 
cry, 
for the fallen tree. 
It had left 
the legacy 
of ropes.