The first leads you on to the next one and the next and we all know where that leads,
but we fool ourselves like wrinkles fool the skin we live in,
When happy endings are not scripted at the beginning and we leave things to fate
I hate that
but I’m a realist who missed being real by a hair’s breadth which is as wide as it’s hard to understand,
I could land on my feet at your feet, a feat in itself, fooling myself,
more wrinkles for the skin?
I’ll look into it.
On the peninsula where things
can be clearer and in the morning
when the sun sheds the night,
I am tight with it
feel alright with it
I’ll just get on with it
© 2017, John Smallshaw.