There once was a bright mind eyes on the autumn-coloured hill,
Who whispered, “Stay focused,” but never could still.
For just when it settled on something to ponder,
A squirrelling-thought would appear and the mind would go wander.

It dashed after the acorns of half‑formed ideas,
It chased every rustle it thought it could hear.
It leapt from one branch of a thought to the next,
Leaving yesterday’s plans in a scribbly text.

But the heart, ever patient, just chuckled along,
Saying, “This is your rhythm, your wild little song.”
For minds aren’t machines that stay locked in one place—
They wiggle and wander and run their own race.

But one day, while mid‑sprint after something quite small,
The mind-squirrel tripped on silence and started to fall.
It landed in stillness, surprised by the view—
A moment so simple it felt strangely new.

The mind-marshal paused too, with a soft little stare,
As if saying, “You’re fine. Just breathe some fresh air.”
And the mind-squirrel, catching on, let the moment unfold,
Feeling warm as the sunlight turned everything gold.

Now whenever distraction comes bounding in fast,
The mind-squirrel doesn’t panic or cling to the past.
It smiles at the mind-marshal with a welcoming grin,
And gently returns to the breath once again.

For life is a dance between focus and play,
Between wandering off, and finding your way.
And each time you notice you’ve drifted astray,
You’re simply being invited- to start again that day.