Resin in my eyes

Another night ends with the dawn and I made it to this side again,
another ghost train ride through dreams disguised as memory are consigned as these things are to history,
but nothing’s simple,
is it?

I paddle in these streams of conscious thought
splashing wildly as night so kindly falls away.

Friday,
time to move on,
time to get my groove on, put my
clothes on,
and though it’s easier to run on auto
I ought not to.

Every time I am reborn where the night
leads into a waking dawn
and the new day’s set to zero
the counter clicks on,
time again to move on
the hero in me gets its groove on
while the real me runs on auto

© 2017, John Smallshaw.