Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Hidin' my heart

Four flights of stairs.
By the time
I make it to my seat
I can barely breathe,
Stand,
And talk.
It takes
A while,
A precious
Little while,
To smile effortlessly
At colleagues.
Most of the mornings,
When I
Am running on
Time,
I follow this
 Oh I know,
I’m crazy
Routine,
Sweating it out
Just before
My work-hours,
When
My underweight frame
Can easily
Squeeze in
The oversized
Overcrowded
Lift
Running overtime,
And
This salt
And sweat,
This
Perspiration,
Earned
At the
Cost
Of
Being
Too lonely
For
Far too long,
Helps
Me hide
My heart,
One more time.

1 comment:

Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.