Present



I have no advice on how to live life

And can sing many songs about what to do wrong.

They say live in the present, from day to day.

I’m seeking the present that eludes me thus far. 

A glimpse of promise appears some distance away.

As I draw closer my enthusiam abates.

Much smaller than anticipated is this present of fate.

‘You Urned This’ and ‘Enter Here’

are neatly etched into the side of the paltry vat. 

“How the hell do I fit into that?”



© David Girard 25/03/15

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