How long to have been away
So difficult to return
Especially as the pen
Is not flowing freely
Yes, the Berlin Blue
Is in need of replenishment
As also is the soul of this writer
On a quite troublesome day
Yet the debt must be repaid
To have lived such a good life
Without giving an ounce of thanks
Is not praise as praise should be
How long then until the next time
What certainty of pessimism
Might cause the words to dry up
Or, to dry out, may read better
There is always a distance
A gradual wandering pathway
Through climbing moorland streams
To those times of future passed
