The grey hiatus if not quite at an end has yielded,
Light filters in through the cracks in the human armour.
Time no longer more mocks with its insistence,
Its background nagging as it passes.
I am ageing as is everyone.
Being grateful for the waking,
The ability to breathe,
Is not underrated,
Though I battle with the self every day,
In a Pierrot versus Harlequin pas de deux.
The hard realities versus the optimism of the romantic.