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What taps on the taproot
With vulpine paws?
-A scritch and a scratch
And a big-belied door.

What gnaws at the tendrils
In fitful bursts?
Disguising it’s spoors
With a spit and a curse.

To sniff at the scent
When the wind rightly leans,
To follow the foot-prints
To the heart of some dream;
To dance with the wonders
That once made you scream,
And to whisper in words that may never have been

Of the worlds that sleep

Between worlds.

© Alisha Riley 2012-2013