Old streets winding through buildings
Narrow hot suffocating blind alleys
Leafless branches stretch into the grey
Trees stand still with bated breath
A lazy afternoon’s front door display
Open close open, swinging now and then
Impatient at a desk beside the window
Scratching on blank sheets, squeezing ink
Humming a tune gently, barely on her lips
Hush the midday breeze suddenly drifts in
Upsetting the table cloth, spilling tea
Silence settles, slowly, like heavy dust
Crumpled pages all in disarray, flutter
Gathering swiftly the scattered words
Flustered, her hair messy, she returns
To her desk, but sits, staring out absently

13 thoughts on “Distracted

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