My time, more time

Running late again,
I hate this time
When I have to wake up
And forget the day is mine.

I don't mind the early starts
Or even the house chores;
It's just travelling to work
That can be such a bore.

Someone else's time
Is never any fun -
Unless you're doing it for pleasure
And not under the thumb.

I don't mind the job,
And the people are OK,
But I hate the sound of the morning alarms
On a cold and wet Monday.

Can I not choose
The days I go to work?
Go from perm to temp
Or once a week,
Would that still make me a good clerk?

Don't think me lazy
Or begrudging the job.
You certainly won't find me sitting around like a slob.

I want to sing,
I want to dance,
I want to be free,

I promise I won't be late any more
If you can give more time to me.

© Leonora Sophie

time

The grey metal clock

Slowly moves.

Time tip-toes when you stare.

Heavy schedules.

Pressing routines.

No time to think,

So much time to wait.

Sparkling fields of freedom

Space to

Run

Sing

Shine.

Time is mine,

Time to think.

But not too much...

© Leonora Sophie