How slowly the clock,
One hand passing the other
Ticks towards freedom
This hour grows late
Yet as work wanes, so does one’s
Creative spirit
Sun setting under
Gravel skies; obscured vision
Hides evening from view.
How slowly the clock,
One hand passing the other
Ticks towards freedom
This hour grows late
Yet as work wanes, so does one’s
Creative spirit
Sun setting under
Gravel skies; obscured vision
Hides evening from view.
I forgot to turn on my out of office message, so I’ll probably have a million messages when I get back. Piss it.
Also? Take long lunches – it’s the only way to get through the Christmas insanity.