the post that never was

it is
one of those mornings when you wake up, and
everything is empty, the frenetic whirl of the past two weeks
hollow
clutchings onto what was temporary, coming to an end
restless epicurean ramblings talking to those who forget
tomorrow and another tomorrow without that which lasts
without that sense of security born of being first somewhere
everyone is in denial
why not i?
always a foot wrong somewhere
always falling before the start
perhaps one day there will be a morning
of waking, and a remembering smile.