A Poetic Continuance – This, That

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Head full of this, that

trouble of concern endless.

Distraction found

in watching light play

through glass, shadow

birds trapped, flapping

around the room where he sits,

head full of this, that

problem unsolvable which

haunted him since

long, long ago.

A fairytale cruel, almost,

the way his life

had turned out, sat here alone,

head full of this, that

particular conundrum (he never had

liked cryptic crosswords).

Shadows spread, play across his face,

mirrored in his head,

thoughts fixed on this, that

question unanswerable.

His body aches with the effort

of never finding a solution.

He hangs his head

so full of this, that

he does not think he can

take it anymore.

[Copyright © N R Nolan]