This place is father away
from home. Each forgotten name
or street adds miles to the
distance. Valleys became reminders
of low points; unfathomable
bottoms like dreams of running
underwater. There was a lost
balance. A gimbal unchecked.
Spinning. The horizontal plane
fighting to remain upright.
Days blend into days yet to happen.
There is a slight sense of all this,
but not today. It’s like looking for
treasure, each stone covers a prize.
Roger Singer 