Thursday

It will take me a minute or two
To process everything that I see
When my eyes open after I die
Is it outer spaces that behold
The lyrics to the song
Of the meaning to be told
Inner peace is all I need
It doesn’t feel like Thursday
Everything is eerily still
And the concrete sends
Echos throughout the town
With my feet quietly upon it
I scratch the surface of
A distance that is drilling
Dopplers of sirens in the background
Children screaming
The wings of birds are flapping
Much louder than yesterday
A spider to greet me in the shower
Roses and flowers still about
My front is facing north
My back is looking south
A woman dresses up her lawn
It doesn’t feel like Thursday

© GÄ