Wednesday, April 20, 2016

The first thirty minutes of April 21st, 2016

Weird how it passes,
The nights and the mornings,
Ripple beneath my conscience.

I assume I want it to last,
But aren't I hoping it brings
Something that hasn't come yet?

I continue to look and examine,
My hands, still here resting,
They're a little shakier these days.

But I remember judging
And knowing even in my teens,
That I could never be a surgeon.

Luckily I instead work in cafes,
Late in the night drinking

Coffee and smiling at the staff.