Tiny steps from midnight into dawn,
have made patterns in my mind,
a hundred million times.
I see them left behind, steaming in the morning as I go,
like a robber’s tracks in crunchy snow.
What’s it like to be…in love? I take a step,
how will I know when the time is right, another yet.
Should I take this route, balance, one footed-
will I ever be done talking to him? My feet are rooted.
And thus the surreal dance of my inner thoughts
plays itself out in sporadic stages.
I go around like a drunken clock,
and I haven’t slept properly in ages.
These tiring steps- tiny, in reality,
send me round the bend, drive me crazy!
Why is life so complex, so frequently,
does he too stay up late, thinking about me?
For this journey I am ill-prepared,
but I’ll keep making tiny steps into dawn.
Until my heart stops running,
and realises that it is no longer so young,
or so scared.
