Soothing, mothering hand of a soft day
smooths away a wrinkle in my head
pressed there by the grimace of constant self-reflection.

The warm rain offers me solace, the grey
sky seeks to calm and I notice now for the first time
the leaves unfurled and the dandelions ticking.

A coffee and a glass of water, a cigarette
and some poor-man’s lunch shape my day
until another slips away into the furnace.

I’m seeking affirmation. I keep asking:
“do you think I’m coming off the rails -
Or was I always running off the sleepers?”

It’s met with a **** of the head, usually,
or a ‘hmm… you’re great fun though’.
I know but that’s not what I’m asking.