The passers-by unseen,
their random chatter unheard,
he walked on to where duty called.
His overflowing mind strained
much like his bulging bag, unnoticed.
Split open, the bag did, spilling it's load
and now his mind close to bursting,
he bent down to gather what he could.
His eyes found a page, astray
different from office, forgotten.
His lateness raging like sirens
somehow subsided, for he soon
found the book where it belonged.
Scooping the rest, he found a bench
and set upon tales he'd forgotten he knew.
An image from his childhood
of valiant heroes and ghastly villains
of noble lords and wise crones
blurred the line in his mind,
Morning sunshine dissolved to scorching day,
and evening soon took over.
He was too lost to care
finding solace he never sought
in a world, both strange and familiar.
The pages ended, plunging him out.
He realised the work was missed
he once rushed to, unthinking.
At dusk, it dawned on him how
he'd spent his life's tale, Unliving.