The Spins

He irons a shirt, clumsy and clouded with memory photo snatches of her..."and then you'll know".
He walks outside on St. Paddy's Day night and hears the sirens, safe from fear..."and then you'll know."
He responds to an outstretched offering of condolence from her..."and then you'll know..........".

Between the old song by High Contrast and the recollections of past holidays and the swirl of his newfound sense of worth, he spins and spins and spins and spins and spins within, over and over and over again, the tailend swallowed by hopeful begin, oh how he spins.