The vision of the other me kept
sleep at bay, the other one who
never heeds the prudence
wound around my soul.
He laughs as if to say that deed
was born without a cause, indeed
an inference I’d never run amok
or go astray. And never did.
As if to say I lead a sheltered
life, never stayed away all night,
ran the gauntlet, got in strife,
a boring son who never knew
the joys of fun.
I can concede the the man is
right and irritates for silly, trite
and clearly fickle reasons, The
Season To Be Jolly had me
tickled pink he’d lead the way
– we’d have some fun on
Christmas Day, drink a lot
and poke the snoot, not give
a hoot when tempers flared.
In the event he wasn’t there.
He chose instead the fickle
sod, to take a book
and read in bed.
© I.D. Carswell 2007
sleep at bay, the other one who
never heeds the prudence
wound around my soul.
He laughs as if to say that deed
was born without a cause, indeed
an inference I’d never run amok
or go astray. And never did.
As if to say I lead a sheltered
life, never stayed away all night,
ran the gauntlet, got in strife,
a boring son who never knew
the joys of fun.
I can concede the the man is
right and irritates for silly, trite
and clearly fickle reasons, The
Season To Be Jolly had me
tickled pink he’d lead the way
– we’d have some fun on
Christmas Day, drink a lot
and poke the snoot, not give
a hoot when tempers flared.
In the event he wasn’t there.
He chose instead the fickle
sod, to take a book
and read in bed.
© I.D. Carswell 2007
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