A HARD DAYS REST

A short poem about an active rest

Coffee stains and expired milk
Long books to excite
Never a day gone to boredom

Follow the leader
Or Go asunder
Follow the caboose
Or just shoot the breeze

A day of wonder
To amaze myself
The flowers are pushing
Headfirst wind strikes cold

Words of articulate
Minor mishaps cause ships to break
A sound out in the open
Is never repeated in secret

Yet, a story is started
And a break is broken
It hurts and it gnaws
Both to he who spoke it
And he who heard it

But he who caused it
Can neither change nor delete it
So in his pity, he hopes
He hears only silence
In his solitude, no one really knows