Yield

Spring once again
And I am dragged to sleep
By gentle mocking
Of fresh leaves
Comfortable
With their role
In all this fuckery
While I summarize
The last ten years
In one admittance

I have still not become

No longer
Can I set myself up
With half hearted
And wholly unrealistic
Resolutions
No longer do I wish
To understand
Or attach a meaning

I accept the fact
These movie sets
Will forever shift
Before I
Catch the stage hands