Impervious to the time of day
and suffering the idleness
of sitting in a near lifeless limbo
I am at last compelled
to take up my pen
in the almost vain hope
of resuscitating an interest
in the rhythms of the joyful
side of life.

But being of a disposition
that too easily dons the coat of distraction
my attentions are soon reduced:
to impoverished thoughts
and reflections concerning small talk
about the weather
while standing still in lifts;
to thinking about the same old heads
nodding to each other
in rain-soaked streets;
to pondering greygreen corridors
that stretch the imagination
into cheerless silences
of absolute emptyness.