I sit here
hands behind head
Feet stooped up
in careless wonder
the dream
Daydreams
Little epitaphs of life
drift upon blank screens
Thoughts
till like the opening of a play
a character enters
the play begins
embroidered metaphors
correct the scene
constantly in change
till the right form runs
lines said, drawn
here to the will
pressed out
Till there I see the full draft.
Then as fast as perceived
I wave the weary lines along
till satisfied
in my little dogmatic world
my egotistical self
I move on.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph