by poetrydiary

Monday starts,
accelerates quickly to an endless stream of meetings without pause and
just when you feel there might be time to look at your list of things to do and think the
phone rings and is interrupted by an urgent face at the door wanting a
decision or information or reassurance or just a bit of attention because something
has happened outside…

that may even be important.

But by now I don’t know where I am at all,
beyond time and place where happenings have no meaning.
And urgency is lost.
It’s eleven pm and time for bed.

Tuesday will be slower.

© 2010 Matthew Rhodes