Not aware of here nor there
And comfortable in solitude
So still and fair you sit and stare
To see what here is calling you
A pill on the tongue of life itself
An unbound book bound to the shelf
Often picked by passers by
But not for much more than one try
The eye is drawn but tapers off
To read at dawn more not than oft’
Ten days I sit and think of prose
As trains of thought just come and go
The station left so dull and dark
Now on foot through the mind we must embark
And tell the tales of nows now past
And reap the benefits at last