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Little heartbreak ant, afraid of Fate yet clasped between these two palms. Looking for those wee-big gaps betwixt these fingers and 'round these wrists. Making mountains out of molehills, carrying your thousand-pound worries like speaking them out loud will break you into pieces. Busy like the bee; searching the finger-palisades for crumbling stones and caving walls. You wave your antennae where the air blows in, like the winter will inevitably leave us cold and wanting. Come home to me and find your peace. Let yourself rest in these head and heart lines. Pack up your papers your circle-roads and the six fuzzy socks you pace these 'floors' in. Little heartbreak ant afraid to Hope [learning to cope] yet clasped between, these two palms.