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]
