14th August 2023

Monday morning and I can feel the weekend pulling me back, not wanting to give up its grasp.

Notes are needed for school uniforms, the school drop off traffic is so tangled that the kids are ejected, left to walk and navigate the final stretches, streets away.

I realise I have left my phone in the car once the bus takes off, a pitiful look from the driver and he disembarks me between stops, to walk the walk of shame back to the park and ride to retrieve it.

Getting engrossed in some pointless twitter feed once finally back on the bus, results in me missing my stop meaning I have to travel all the way into town, taking the long round-about route to work instead.

I remember my often-forgotten access card when getting a coffee from the staff room, only to realise my private decaff stash is not in my mug, but back in my desk drawer …crap!

Small things,
all easily overcome-able,
but I feel like I have lived a lifetime of banality this morning already,
It is only nine thirty and the tidal pull around my feet …it is still strong.

Go easy on me today world, please,
see my pathetic-ness,
recognise my struggle,
show me you care;

please, bring me muffins,
give me a sign,
that there is some good,
out there.

Carrrots / Turnips,
Silk Road,
Xinjiang, China.

Tat, That is Not Poetry (mine) Living copyright information Copyright Sunda 2023