B Y

July 16, 2016

A different diffident is afoot.

But still when all’s been said

But still not done,

When waiting was a silent art worth it.

Now acting up mustn’t be shushed.

Not a tragedy of errors.

I’m fit to plot my way  by fears,

By  mist-led thoughts,  clear by hushed omens,

Past icons, on through all the usual cues,

On to unknown, outta town one way roads. less lost

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