Then you'll bump your head.
Curve a bit,
Then you'll avoid the pit.
Curving is to be in coincidence;
You pass by in mere accidence.
In that curve, there lives happiness.
In that curve, there lives sadness.
The curve comes slow at times,
But too fast to realize sometimes.
Just like that butterfly,
A flower it does pass by.
Who passed by me yesterday?
Who curves by me today?
To curve, to pass, is to be 'un heavy';
In that lightness, I live in you and you in me.
So, curve a little, pass by a little.
But very lightly, so not to belittle.