March

Sometimes, I can only march.
Not physically.
In my head and in my heart
with mustered energy
I put one foot in front of the other,
and see myself gliding
effortlessly forward,
then walking, then striding,
like someone with purpose.
And though it is a set-up
I can make myself certain
for just long enough.

Visitors

The hot press
is full to the brim,
but the actual mess
is dealt with.
Clearing, cleaning,
debating of merits,
sorting and screening
by two young creatives.

Would we ever see our surfaces?
Would we ever clear the hall?
Can you imagine the state of us
if no-one ever called.