Wednesday, 6 March 2013

SOL: 6.3.13

Writing a slice of my workspace

The boredom bursts forward;
They ramble and rumble.
Slow, melodic drones.

When will, the rumblings stop?
The drone, continues to reverberate forth.
Raised voices, scramble over each other.

Gazing, gawking.  From one to another.
Concentration, declines.  With every minute.
Awake now, focus!

Haze, fog, enveloping.
Heavy eye lids.  A cellphone rings,
Attention, listen!

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