Tuesday, April 30, 2002
Counting the damn minutes until I go home!
As molasses do, they tick on my computerized time clock.
Each number traveling slower than the rest.
Creating poetry to kill the clock.
Realizing that all it does is put my stomach into further knots.
Waiting, praying, hoping that Paul is fine.
As molasses do, they tick on my computerized time clock.
Each number traveling slower than the rest.
Creating poetry to kill the clock.
Realizing that all it does is put my stomach into further knots.
Waiting, praying, hoping that Paul is fine.
