Modus Operandi

Eye to eye conversations

One too many contemplations

Solitude in the late afternoon

Reflections of faces at the end of a spoon

The tongue's qualm stays for a fortnight

To escape, the shoes walk off the plight

Mental stamina thrives in sheets

Leaving a soul wishing for sleep

Heart, tries to leave the thicket

While determined for a train ticket

Dance, in risk, on a dotted line

And wait to pay a clouded fine

A scratchy pen molds the paper

The hand shakes and tries to filter

Calliope remains a muse

A winnow from the wind removes any ruse