Blithely I discover new ways to hurt you,
Of course, if I gave actions thought…
These diffident faults could be avoided,
And I promise to try…
I promise to try.
But I am a fool…
A head-space full of bricabrac,
Lofty ideals and punctured pomp,
I tread clumsily,
And I am left leisurely regretting,
My blithe spirit fatuously trumpeting,
my ignorance and banality.
Copyright Dale Beck 2018