Beetle Crap

A beetle shat upon my eye, while I was sleeping soundly beneath my favourite willow tree it was an act of love. A blink did free the greenish putty and as he looked at me the memories came flooding back I closed them now to see. Was he a friend although he shat upon my saddend face perhaps a messenger for me who had been rather blunt. I must escape, into free sleep it beats the firewater there is a world where harmony and pax vobiscum reign. The beetle flies back to his nest in my own willow tree and all her leaves look down on me but none with any scorn. I stay here 'til the sun goes home and all the cows head east the beetle takes his second shit that's when I say Good bye. Back down in dreams the memories come floating like mad bats to let me know I can be free but not in chains for two. The dew from my own willow tree rains down on my creased face refreshes me, revives my soul it is my only home. So, please ye Gods, can I grow roots become one just the same I do not mind the beetle crap I do not mind the shame.