(one of my more experimental poems.. what do you think?)
It’s late, it’s cold
Pressure pushing,
Do they have a pill for that?
Its late, faint rumours of things to do
Faint worries of deadlines to come, money to spend
There is a bigger picture, somewhere behind,
I glide, though I fear,
I glide, yet I wobble,
It’s hard to keep up---
They all know, it seems
Some secret,
So secret.
New day, follows last
New task, old faces--
New faces, old task
Pressure pushing,
Do they have a pill for that?
They tell me I’m on the right track- glad I know... feels so.
I glide for that moment, live for that moment
I’m getting it right- getting it done,
And getting somewhere...
Where am I going?
God
Knows, wish he’d tell me though...
BY Rowena McEwan
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