Far from home

And so I waited,
The sun playing silly buggers in the sky,
The avarice demanded something,
but who knew what?
The boredom nudged at me,
like a pooch in the field,
Was it cold or was it that i was still?
Was I in the shade or on top of the hill?
Was the sun hiding in the sky?
Or was it just dark?
The park offered no answer,
it was simply being the park,
The garden had extended its boundaries,
It was now the vast green dirge of the field,
I had no recollection of travelling,
Perhaps the world had moved without me
and dropped me here as it passed on,
I just don't recall.
Plants had become too ordinary of late,
Is that a lamp post or a tree i see?
Is that a seagull or a Bee?
Do i wear my hat on my knee?
Or is that just ridiculous?
I had stopped watching time,
so what time could it be?
I only knew it was autumn,
Simply because the leaves raced on ahead,
Litter; golden brown and dead,
They brushed their atrophied limbs on the ground as they flew past to a party which has never been found,
I held the lead in my hand,
But I've never owned a dog,
Or a log for that matter,
So I attached it to a log,
And dragged it behind me.
As I began to walk,
I became snagged on the occasional stare,
panicked on the odd fear that came with a glare,
The others didn't appreciate this behaviour,
My log was unlike any dog they had seen,
That i pulled it by lead, no sense could they glean,
On this barren, civility should be practiced,
There is no time for log-pulling antics,
There's a time and a place for pulling logs,
A purpose there-after not fit for dogs,
There is night and day to avoid confussion,
There is mad and sane in some random distribution,
And no-doubt these people suppose me mad,
If they only knew the day I had,
Outside of time,
Travelling without moving,
Cold when it's hot,
Cold when it's cold,
But I feel far from fine,
Truth be told,
I'm far too sane,
To be this old,
Come on log,
They don't want us here,
Let's go home...
Oh dear.