Sometime we are sylphs
Weightless like a feather when we feel
The thrill of every passing moment
With a spring in one’s step

And sometimes – notoriously often…..

We are circumspect, inner-wheels turning
And the outer in a deadlock or stalemate
Seemingly caught between two worlds
The perfect Archie paradox – Betty or Veronica
Yet at the end of the day you adore
Both her careless hemlines and her care-giving conscience
And the girl next door – Betty – wins the heart’s podium

And at those times of inward-leaning
In those interludes nature scripts
I slip through brief synapses, riding on neurotransmitter ferries
To dissappear to the many shaped pieces
Of my own cracked mirror