I had a question you know
I had something to say
I had a little word to whisper
And now it waits for another day

But come the day which never does come
For n is equal to n plus one
The story is the same, the moments rushed
Like little crumbs, happiness air-brushed

It’s not the rush, It’s not about attention
It is a faultline in intention
Quietly to receede with the tide
It is time surely to step aside

Watching you quietly with a smile
Knowing with neither guilt nor guile
Wondering when that day will dawn
When you realise it’s not me – I’ve gone!


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