Dear Mole, we part the best of friends.
This canto marks abandonment!
Escape will much relieve the bends
developing as habit rends
intent.
Dismantling a recipe
is not so easy as it seems.
For form so often did agree
with content as they mingled free
in verse and dreams,
in stanzas and in daily thought…
so much so as to make us doubt
the origins in which we’re caught,
forgetting that we bravely fought
our way up through this spout.
Some day, dear Mole, we’ll stroll on back
to have a look at what we made.
We’ll study fissures in the crack
through which we paved our metric track
and call to mind each escapade
that succored us along our way.
We’ll know this journey had to end
as all does that begins with clay
and ends in myth and roundelay.
Until we meet again, dear Mole, dear friend!