Basis

Is it the tiredness which seeks me out
When I sit in the sunshine

The concentration which I need for reading lapses
As my head wobbles

I don’t write of solitude, not nearly so much
As I read of solitude

I am the driver, at the railway level crossing
Who waits in abeyance

And I quite care for that sunlit location
Halfway to nowhere

Yet in snatches I am fully cognisant of my place
In this floating fading world

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