Accidental Passenger

Fidget hands grab leaves as they run by 
while I roll along, to try and to try,
to feel close to the world and make one with it
into my hand comes green after wit

reaching to finding and there in the grasp
standing up taller than any fine clasp
perhaps future butterfly but I'm no biologist
scraps of the past made letting go of the mist

harming to both of us but one got it worse
failure the matching the figur'tive purse
wealthy the maker of watches and time
onto the path is forever my crime.