in my cubicle
i stare at my computer.
how many hours left?
the sun outside shines
and beckons my bicycle
to emerge proudly.
yet i sit instead,
chained to this grey, lamplit desk,
and daydream of sky.
Friday, July 10, 2009
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1 comment:
And later you fly around the track, flung forward from your partner's hand.
Thanks for the poem.
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