Lost Dreams Of Manacle Poem by saranyan bee

Where are the mice,
where are the mice,
in the slumber full of dice
my lips read
don’t ignore them
follow them,
the mice in the mangroves
mangroves upon the mountains
mountains in which the clouds build a colony of nests
nests where the sun humbles like a halo,
where are the mice,
where are the mice?

I wake up
thinking where are the mice
my lips asked
did they spirit into the hills,
the food they hoarded for the rainy day
were lost in the flash floods
and submerged in the wet burrows,
have they fallen prey
in the anger of the river,
have they lost each other’s company
in the trenches of the void,
where are the mice,
where are the mice?

The manacles on my wrist been harsh
wrenched by their mood,
the mice I saw scavenging wasted food
had in real fled our midst.

They say the station has arrived
and prepare me for the Bastille,
Where are the mice,
Where are the mice?