FALLING AWAY

The inner spin which once spun within
Is slowly rolling on the outside
And interest wanes into a feathery sunset
Above a vague horizon

Questions cascade into a mist of dreams
Without purpose or need of answers
There are other things to do
I'll smile if you want me to

Standing alone by a closed window
Just watching nothing happen
Writing on the misted glass
Slowly falling
Away

                              By Phil Roberts