there is no gravity in my head

i chase fancies
like dust particles in the air.
where do they settle?

the day spins over my head,
taking me where it may.
i worry myself into a stupor
over trivialities, hoping
real troubles will
solve themselves.
they have given me
gray hairs, and a frown:
why should i care for them?
i'd rather chase fancies
and let the day take me
where it may.