Hidden beneath the mossy growth.
What’s inside the holes?
Hidden in the folds?
Some such mystery.
I wish I could see.
Gnomes bustling around.
Planting, singing, mischievously found.
Not seen, but seen.
Paradoxically placed in the dream.
Felt in the folds and dark shadows.
The giggles and jokes that matter.
Can you see?
Nothing, but mystery.