Déjà vu

Again, a novelty lesson.

Repetition is sly.
The sun and moon.
Seasons.
The expected holidays
done before and again.
Once more they compile
greeting on a doorstep
as existential rhythmic quandary.
It's there in memory.
Or is it?

Where we were:
9 strings of gossomer
gestating a life of
scenes well played
and never learned from.
Look backward to see
the dawn of yesterday.
Eyes swallow with blinking.
Phenomena in hours.
Duplication of days.
What was said before
in espieglerie
is what we meant
in a deficit of intuition.
I walked up the crooked steps
to talk to father
like so many times before.
We both sang
in response to my déjà vu,
and perseverance in the times before.
Regression matches the parenting.
I am only going through the motions,
and seem tired of my own dreams.