Idle hands

The wheels they turn in well worn ruts

Cerebral backroads that we travel

Eroded deep from years of fears

that if we veer we may unravel

For once the wheels are locked in place

the reigns can be forgotten

And empty hands with no demands

was a wish once made, once gotten

Idle hands may mean more time

to gaze at passing views

But weigh the cost of what you lost

before it slips right through