i leave this familiar abode
in the morning, time moving fast-
the train
noisily chugging across tracks
behind city streets, underground
tunnels
in the dim lights, my mind wanders
to summer nights when blue rules - sky
and lake -
slow the sunset tides, slow the burn
of sands & fading music - bell
rings - stop! -
her fingers are now tapping time-
billable hours, accounting
minutes-
she becomes the clock in the room
tallying with her purse until
it's time
to head west, passing by strangers-
time moves slow as a sweeper's broom
slow as
stitched tulip. trees are calling. house
is warm tea, inviting. i meet-
myself
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry Form is Synchronicity. Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm. Thanks for your visits and comments.
