Tiny pieces scattered on
A tilting tabletop
Seeking interlock
with mates
To make the puzzle
come together.
Jumbled letters
scrambled
Hither tither in
my harried head
Til pieces find
their fitting
In a field of
fragrant heather.
Riddles riding
roughshod through
A misty muddled
maze,
Twisting
unpredictably,
Uncertain as the
weather.
And though you
find fruition
In your wise and witty
ways
Another puzzle
plagues with sinewy
Jaws as tough as
leather.
Still the puzzle
baits me
With a cajolery I
hate,
Until I find the
answers
The rest will have
to wait.
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