Walked under her roof many a times
And stopped at the same spot every time,
Maybe for a second or an hour
But stopped, I have
Pulled by its shapes and colors.
The triangles with skewed angles;
The square that was but for the incline;
The Pentagon with a corner amidst its edge
But mistake it not for a hexagon.
It was all in the spot.
The black and the white
The light and its lack
Or was it the other way?
They bend and curve
And twist and slide
An intricate game they play
You'll be privy if lucky.
It was all in the spot.
Here's a secret,
No spilling it.
Look past the dazing whites
And listen with ears up.
You can hear the muffled howls
Or the percipient giggles,
See the contorted faces
Or the grins short of grimaces.
As the keen pairs of eyes from all the years
Stare deep into you, do not flee.
For it is all in the spot,
The spots on the roof
The spot on the floor.