Sitting quietly not quite alone
Nothing too much going on
Nothing too much going on
No hint of shouts no
trivial doubts
Or pressing next from
thereupon
In amongst ones cross
connections
I feel a sense of
sneaking whisper
May happen by to catch
one's eye
Not even crystal clear is
crisper
Without help or any
hindrance
A smothered obvious
hailing wail
Will strike alight so
blinding bright
Where such a winner
cannot fail
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