Blissful, lazy, Sunday morning,
Slow and sweet.
Why should a Monday
must it meet?
The speed of life tires me out.
Is it just me, or everyone about?
The wait, the walk, the leisurely talk,
lost in a race, drowned in a shout...
Childhood was meant to watch the seagulls.
to count the rocks, leaves, and loose papers.
but classes and lessons now crowd the mind-
Butterflies have gone, all changed into eagles!
Slower - I scream, and the world frowns,
Push! Shove! Run! They announce.
They hurry and speed. Athletes, they assume
To me, somehow, they look like clowns!
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