Look to your left and right, before crossing this road. Who knows maybe there's a sweet fruit on the other side. But do be careful, don't get hit by the fishes dressed as cats.

The good stuff can be hard to find, Soft, yet strong by design. I vanish with sorrow, sickness, or glee, Pulled from a box, used urgently. I crumble under pressure, yet serve my role - Please wash your hands when you're done.

I can drain you, Pay you, Spur you to wake, And take your time away

Nibbling on knots of narrow, nourishing nectar, these nimble networks nestle neatly in navy-blue bowls. Notoriously nightly, the nomad negotiates numerous nearly-endless knots.

Fixation or dwelling? Both are compelling! Hips mustn't lie, Just go where they're telling