15 December 2012



Wonder if a better template exists
or that distinction is made when an
habitual, tried but not always true,
reply chances the right ambiance;
too like waiting for the weather to
supply inspiring ambits to open a
conversation when a too lengthy
pause insists there aren’t any

Call me taciturn if you wish, it isn’t
inexact, but reserve judgement for
a bit; the moment will arise when
you’re lost for words, indeed dead
on your feet ringing with vibes like
fingers pointing, accusing rudely
© 7 November 2012, I. D. Carswell