The Little Tramp

I often find myself at the Crossroad

of exuberance and strictures

Is it the fault of my innocence

that belies my expectations?

Gone are the days of crowded corners

Streaming friendship and committed cricketers

Gone are those etherealised evenings

empty canvasses

and melancholic mourners

Gone are those fiercely firing foes

starkly stubborn sharks

and bullying black sheep of benevolence.

Gone are those normally abstract ideas

dazzling deep-rooted doubts

and performing post-operative odours

The challenge still awaits

the sound still separating

strong, stony silence of solitude.