In the land where jokes seldom land,
the cows never came home, they just
sat down in protest.
"Ever tried milking a thought?" pondered the farmer,
as his sheep counted him instead of the other way around.
Dive deeper...
The office of paperwork
held their annual disaster in the breakroom;
coffee spilled in the shape of
maps.
Fate, it seems, resided in forgotten mugs,
tasting a little like
old receipts.
Reflections of broken roads
danced under the guidance of wind,
playing pranks on those who dared to walk.
"It's your turn to trip," whispered the echoes,
laughing as they
rewound time.