At Work.

Checking the time
ever so frequently
as I sat here
in my silent reverie.
Counting the hours
that had yet to come,
Hope the night devours
my soul that’s glum.
Round and round
these hands they run.
I’m caught hypnotized
by these tiny hands.
Filling the solace
in one glance,
alas, 6 o’clock
surely I gotta run!

MR@2016

P.S. a 5-minute poem for a lazy soul trapped within a 4-wall box for an office 😦

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