Single dad. Creative thinker, in a digital world.
I shed my clothes, my weaves of Sisyphus.
I draw a bath,
a hot comma in the tireless day.
I add lavender and rosemary
and the scent of otherness surrounds me
How many things have we done
But the one
We never thought of or considered
When we wake
Half the day has gone
As we slumbered
Was tied, trussed and sunk
Into the inky blackness
We closed our eyes