sitting
in the midst
a
cloud of confusion
disappearing
and reappearing
right
before eyes
close
each day
no
one knows
and
he may not be the first
right
or wrong
singing
some wordless song
all
thought
just
so happened
to
have a pen in hand
give
him credit for that
and
he won’t need to be
first
in line
or
last out the door
onto
the floor
or
out in the back yard
remembering
moments
as
a child again
listening
is the best
teacher
(aside from my dad)
anyone
can hear
what
is said
how
many listen
and
one day it will all end
six
or seven days before
that
hoping someone
will
tell him what to do then
if
not now
right
or wrong
just
trying to find some sense
in
the world spinning
clouds
of confusion
and
nothing concluded…
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