I love to dance and twist and prance. I shake my tail, as away I sail. Wingless I fly into the sky.
From tree to tree it jumps and it swings and this furry little fella likes fruits, nuts and seeds. And sometimes people say to “stop ‘us’-ing around.
Words come out of it, aligned in perfect silence. A messenger of black on white, a slinky fellow drawing lines, of thin and soft graphite