TURNED OUT SOCKS

 

Peak,

And trough

And turned out socks

 

Whizzing and popping and never stopping. 

 

Until we reach the moment,

between now and despair. 

Blocks of myself go untouched on the stair.

 

As a globe of light hangs,

just over there.

 

Just out of reach.

 

Looking at me as I look over. 

To salt the daffodils

Of our sins on my shoulder.