Cur

Where in this tiny house
Did all that fury stir?
By tiny mice
Or rolling dice
A flurry set to scurry on
Like candles set in tithe to dawn
With eyes and hungry mouths
And gentle eyes to lure

Where in this world of chance
Did all these odds assure?
With flipping coin
And worth adjoin
A journey set to carry far
The sun, now just another star
And options stand askance
With poultices to cure

What gathers in this place
That sings this song of her?
That perfect note
Another wrote
That lingers as a bending a tine
A bow upon the string of mine
And echo with a grace
For one who was a cur

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