Euan and the clarks.

Signs of life a flicker,
sanity returns to the sitter
these one word hitters
lack the punch
generated in their circles of motion

As if I could expect
to leave this failure behind
move on, about face
to a potential future.

So I breathe in the morning dew
slacken the boot laces,
pry the three day old suit socks
off of my exhausted vessel.

I'll pack myself a few piled high
and off I'd soar,
this poem,
hardly has its grace

But do you see me care?