Sigh 201

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We can run side by side fork right together on the bleak road.

Run fast enough that we never look back at the left behind us.

With our steps crunching among the barren escapade-

We long for the fruitful pleasures of a stroll.

As glances oppose we turn around atop a freshly cut knoll

To find all along we were in control.

 

 

 

Each day gleans in to the next

Using my hands, adept

To calculate the necessary rest

But the task becomes a pest

When time passes like swatting flies sleeplessly in the Amazon.

 

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