My hands never rest from drawing patterns,

As my concentration drifts away.

On a page where my eyes are fixed 

I go astray.

Into the art of sketches, my heart is stringed. 

Little did my focus go so far,

But as far as painting all the spaces of the open page.

Habitual act.

It Catches me unguarded but active.

Funny feeling!

Oh what are your odd habits?