misplaced letters; misplaces trust
the world dines on their wanton lust
wandering footsteps, weakened by bottle glass.
I hurry up , so I won't be last.
Screaming
no glory
Dreaming
outscoring
forwarded footsteps and unopened mail,
left out in the barrenness, the terse winter Gael.
what should I do ?
what can't I see ?
left all alone
burdened by me.

If I were a bird
I could fly up high
In the sky,
A concept of course quite absurd
But a winsome idea had it occurred
For the soaring
Prospect overawing
Terra-bound type outscoring
Gravity-denying thrill of flying
Above all the ant-like crowds,
To say I'd miss this chance would be lying;
Flashing like a scimitar
Through the clouds,
In the manner of the swallow,
Nary aught but jets to follow.

But there is a slight quibble
I don’t think I could even nibble
Or own a beak about to dribble
For that tasty avian treat
At which I squirm
I may be permanently grounded
Leave my feathered friends dumbfounded
Yet I‘m not simply iffy or relatively sniffy,
I wouldn't ,couldn't, eat a ****** worm.

(7th April)