It is obvious: I have failed again
I sought in vain to choose these words for you
Each one a soft, cool kiss for your sad brain
A set of symbols familiar and new
But the wrinkles of your grey dress are clear
They form a bleak map of disappointment
Compounded by the fact that you rushed here
One slipper, without leave, strangely absent
Perhaps it waits, confused, on yonder stair
As into air, abstractedly, you glare
For this small, private, readerly lair
Instead of consolation, yields despair
Please know that, for so long as I can write
I’ll strive to quench grey yearning with delight
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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