Each More than the Last

A famous sequence learned early on
Sir Fibonacci’s magnum opus
Though our schooling days may be long gone
We must keep that concept in focus

The warehouse is dimly lit and vast
As each minute passes, more enter
Each pair brings along more than the last
And I am at the very center

Step by step, rhythmic, they march in
One, one, two, three, five, eight and thirteen
All are ready to commit grave sin
My heart races, I will be unclean

Leaves, pine cones, both Fibonacci’s flow
I too am wrapped, never to be free
The sequence never ceases to grow
And they each explode onto me