Too Fast To Stop
The ache in the eyes after twelve hour days
and weekends too fast to stop:
meetings to be, flats to find,
a world to Green, a poetry do ...
But when I have some unused time
I wander through those empty hours
getting up, sitting down, walking round,
only knowing what not to do.
I think what I need is someone else there,
someone to say: “Sit down! Shut up!
Have a cuddle. I care”. Someone else there
to make that empty house a home.
I understand this poem was published by Page 84.
is hosted by
arts & ego
© 1978–2022 dylan harris