What’s that they’re doing?
Walking the street, hand in hand
It’s a sunny day, yes: nice, warm
But don’t they know?
There’s no pace for where they go.

I heard them once, whispering
And it wasn’t the usual show
At the table, to add to the crowd
But something solemn, that I
Almost didn’t recognise it.

What is it they’ve learnt, anyway?
They think they’re so clever
We’re clever, for we’ve forgotten!
Your shackles won’t go gold
Don’t tie us up with you!

No, let us be, for we’re free.
You’ll never see us stand on air
At any moment bound to fall
Crushed beneath grand singularity
Or trapped on a like tombstone.

1.XII.24