#handheld

pink and yellow blossoms once vibrant

are wilting as i get worse again after

a gradual improvement and all

i think of is the dormouse who wanted

'Game Boy Advance - 'Wet Floor''

[GBA] [CZECH REPUBLIC] [MAGAZINE] [2001]

"Ever wonder about the story behind those eye-catching, often yellow signs that pop up around spills? You're looking at a wet floor sign, a silent guardian warning you about slippery surfaces. Simple in design yet mighty in purpose, these signs are universally recognised symbols of caution, advising you to tread carefully or steer clear. The concept of alerting others to hazardous areas is as old as human settlements. However, the modern wet floor sign, familiar to us today, became widespread in the late 20th century. Businesses and public spaces adopted these floor signs as a safety measure and a legal requirement to prevent accidents. The choice of yellow wasn't by chance. Yellow grabs attention and universally signals caution, making it the ideal hue to catch your eye amid daily distractions. So, the next time you see one, remember it's a piece of safety history designed to protect and inform." ~Street Solutions UK ("Wet Floor Signs - Everything You Need to Know")

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whether i put too

much or too little blame on

somewhere in my thoughts and dreams

there is a field, where i am sat,

the daisies colour it in reams

of white among the grass, so that

the field looks as though it’s painted

by some old master, antiquated.

the field, this last week, has housed

my body in its natural bliss,

i and the hedgerow are espoused,

i’m cradled by the trees, and kissed

so softly that i shed a tear

each time i am dragged back to here.

the noise of all the world around

cannot be heard from in my field,

i shut out any kind of sound

except the brook to which i yield:

safe and quiet there am i,

without the woes which make me cry.

but all the same, i don’t belong

among the flowers and the birds.

remain i here. although i long

for that field with no need for words

or messy feelings, petty strife.

rules dictate silence,

i long for conversation,

impassive, i stare

and tell myself this will all