Monday, January 24, 2011


Too much flow, is not the way I go:

Rugged books clasped firmly
Dozens of thoughts swarming
My oxfords are tightly on
Coffee cup half empty
Dewy grass lies ahead
I choose a treaded path instead
The fog mocks the sun
Encompasses me with it's presence
A mysterious dim essence

Again, in a hurry to get to class
My professor is not surprised
I began to scurry faster
To avoid his scolding eyes

A multitude of humans
All with different lives
Surround me as I pass them
To be in class on time