Saturday, August 20, 2011


Tiptoe lightly into wakeless
Shades of sweet oblivion,
Fighting sleep and desperate hunger
Til I cross the Rubicon.

Would you please repeat the question?
I’m afraid my memory
-Although my wits remain intact-
Is not quite what it used to be.

Listing wild from port to starboard,
Tilting hard in stormy seas,
Must hold tightly to the railing
Lest it brings me to my knees.

I just need to find some balance
Somewhere between yang and yen.
Looking forward to tomorrow,
Dreaming of what might have been.

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