Jun
28
Wary plod
There was a time,
when life
was measured in time
between "now"
and the weekend…
When I would get up
in the morning, feeling
already weakened...
Counting the days
to the moment that
I find the piece
that would bring me peace...
***
Lo and behold!
The solution is here!
I'm happy and cheerful,
but what do I hear?
***
I sense someone's voice
whisper into my ear:
"It will stop making sense,
after a year".
Now I have nothing
to measure,
that time is back,
except the feeling,
that someone is behind my back.
Comments, Pingbacks:
Comment from: Ion Todirel [Visitor]
how did you end up with that title? 
Permalink
2009-Jun-28, Sun @ 07:40
Comment from: Alex [Member]
It is a meaningful and straightforward title. But t is meaningful in more ways than you think, the poem has a couple of easter eggs in it. Permalink
2009-Jun-28, Sun @ 09:16 
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