up before daylight
arrives.
peeking out the window
at the wet
street.
the small dog
being walked, the woman
with a red
umbrella,
walking slowly
in the fog.
she's there every
morning at this time.
her life
is on a clock, as
most lives are,
the minutes giving
way to hours,
folding into days.
it's good to have a
routine
to save you from so
much wondering
about what to do next.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment