Lint

I am the silver ball in the maze guided by your quicksand hand, turning tides twirl, trying to eat us with their bellies of jellyfish. We are safe in this guided path though the walls shiver when we crash our soft fingertips into their rivets. I am the silver ball warmed by your cupped hand, your rescue was inevitable. If you keep me in a shallow pocket,I may fall in the gutter so push my down in the corner of a long and deep one and I will make friends with the lint, then you can take me everywhere.