There are times I cannot shake it off, not even channelling my best (very poor) Taylor Swift vibe.
It’s a glimpse out the corner of the eye. Did I see it or was it my imagination? A floater, a speck of dust in the atmosphere or a shadow clinging to the edges. Who can say with certainty? It’s presence can be equal parts downy kiss or Machiavellian thief of joy.
I rail when I am unable to fix, kiss it better or magic it away with Calpol. I am a fixer you see or an agitator of souls at the very least.
If unhappiness hovers, security and resolve is threatened then I should be the equivalent of super glue. Yet am I more of a tie that binds? The kite line that sores and flies on the wind or the dead wood. Chop it out?Build it up to smash it down?
I don’t think so. Not on my watch. Not today at least. Tomorrow? It is unwritten. 
Definitely Not The Walton's.... 