Round-A-Bout

Written by: Colin Marschall

Fortuitous
having hands to hold
onto memories,
yet no mouth to speak of them

Blind
to mistakes repeated,
yet showering the world
in tainted images

Even the mirror
holds onto half-smile secrets
(jealously)
Each a photo-copy,
fading to motes in twinkling eyes

Sitting astride Mobius circle
always thinking,
finality is a bend away

and yet,

I always
finish where I
began.