Ripples in time, wrinkles of fluff.
One more memory, not enough.
Diffuse the thoughts, rebundle them up.
Empty the bottle, fill the cup.
Pour it back and forth, in and out.
Sincere recollections, without a doubt.
Residue builds, the layers form.
Peel them away, reveal the worm.
Squirming side to side, to and fro.
Little Wormy, where to go?
Jump to the left, then the right.
Play that accordion night by night.