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.
how did you end up with that title?
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.