.......

The day seems pointless, in a constant pause
Unmoving and unreal. The light is grey
Streaked with an orange that from some obscure cause
Sucks meaning from the air and makes the way
Surreal and alien. I walk in blurs
Finding myself only in little spurts
Otherwise unsure. The river stirs
And calls to me, but whatever it blurts
Is lost in my distraction, and I go
Beyond the hearing. Even as I do
I realize that I no longer know
Where to go. Then I remember you
And that we were to meet; and with this known
I know myself. The day's again my own.