A sense of end
And almost-closed chapters
Yet new is on hold
Old and stale
Tired in body and soul
Is spring ready?
Hope and fear
In equal measure wait
Bold goes missing
It's been a while.
Putting pen to paper, laboured torture
giving way to that quiet satisaction
Feeding an inexhaustible cyberspace with
tidbits that receive little response.
Feeling pretty, dressing to impress
one who is rarely impressed
Caring enough to summon up that power
peculiar to a female nation.
Dreaming a dream you know exists
in the future, an as yet unseen future
Yet knowing without doubt that
it will be lived even without knowing how.
Oh it's been a really long while.