Crazy work hours
at frenzied speed
with work and work
for days and a week more
when the work goes on
on one looping assembly line.

The hours are long
and the days short,
The seconds are high
and the minutes low.

when the wind stops to blow
and i cant feel the breeze
and just the time moves
and yet the morning
turns to evening in no time.

Its then
while moving my fingers
on the keyboard in tandem
with my running thoughts
i think of -
You tell me.

Poetry by Sona The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 77 times
Written on 2023-11-20 at 17:50

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Man those last two lines! Fuck this is good. Its like a rush of blood to the head leading to some clarity

Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
The way you start in daily life; work, the passage of the day, and thus catch my attention!
Yes, in there, in every bit of the common, lives the mystery!

Good work, good writing!