Two weeks, seeming like two years,
The cave fulfilling its purpose, run bears!
A couple of hungry legs wrapped in rested shorts,
Pursuing, missing, calling, don‘t worry lords,
I have to reject the generous portion of oatmeal,
There is so much fruit waiting at the top of the hill,
Offering to hold a conversation deeper than a silent spoon,
Away from the round table, where wasps, ants whistle a happy tune,
Stimulation lies on another page,
Tired from being a prisoner in a comfy cage.