Should I say forty

a year it was ,

reawakening from

the rebarbative world.


CHIMING,the bell rings,

Chartreuse in hand

my head whirls


Chilblain o'er hands and feet

static since, I've been

the astute , now is a mute


CHIMING, the bell tolls,

but for whom?

I've my thimbleful

and reach out the...