Access to the honey-pot denied,
Ants crawled back to winter.
I followed them to the horizon of slumber,
Where lullabies hung in the drooping trees,
Where dreams came dropping from the skies.
Are you keen to strive back for the honey-pot?
Returning is as tedious as going over.
Ants crawled back to winter.
I followed them to the horizon of slumber,
Where lullabies hung in the drooping trees,
Where dreams came dropping from the skies.
Are you keen to strive back for the honey-pot?
Returning is as tedious as going over.
