Poetry

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Breath of Fresh Air



4:30 in the morning, to 8:30 at night is no way to make a living,

Life dictates, pulls, pushes, yanks, but still I keep on giving.

Traffic in the big city is bad no matter what route I choose.

Doesn’t matter what time I get up, because I’m still gonna lose,

Time; My time; I can never make it there quite on time,

Always on my grind, constantly searching to find

That little piece of sunshine to help me kick back and unwind,

And untwine, the stiffness in my spine; my neck; my back;

My neck and my back are both out of wack

Somebody cut me some slack; patience I lack…

I feel as though time is on crack…

And therefore always against me

My eyes are always forward, and yet I still can’t see

The horizon before me,

Oh woe is me…problems are many

And for each one I slay, another stands before me ready to play

I hope and I pray, that my Lord above shows me a way

Then I stop…I freeze;

Get down on my knees;

I close my eyes and stare into the darkness of calm

I silently recite the Psalm…

Number 23…

it suits me, you see…

I open my eyes; into new calm I stare

And I take in a breath of fresh air.

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