Mother asks me,
have I been touching the cloth again
she tells me
don't get your ****** hands all over it

I know she will give me a beating
and I know like a lamb I will be bleating
but I just can't help myself
I need to be touching that cloth

The hand of my creator
she swipes and slaps fast
but after all these years
I know how to dodge and dive to last

So every time mother is not looking
I flutter silently liken to a moth
and with my grubby little hands
dare to be touching the cloth

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris