Tempus does not fugit

Glancing at the clock
A sigh of despair
Only three minutes since the last look

The day starts with such promise
and then
I

run

out

of

steam

A quick pick me up
What’s your poison?
Make it a double

Break for lunch
Joy
THAT hour rushes by
Of course it does

The post-lunch-lull descends
A carb heavy plate
Guaranteeing the need for a snooze

Slap around the face
(my own hand and face, by they way)
COME ON!

Just
a
few

more

hours.

And relax

© wordsfromanotebook / suzie pearson

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