Brooding at my desk
From an open book
Resisting a hand full
Of sleep from time
To time, recalling
As I drift forward
Or aft the soft sail
Boat sway on a calm
Day, Susan brilliantly
Smiling into a morning’s
Rising sun – time stilling,
Watching my main
Sail flutter, and never
Caring until that time
Ran out and runs out still
Sitting here snapping awake
From my palm-perch which
I flex and flex until I have
The feeling back – the
Rest of me though loses all
That is back there once again
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