Calendar Master

It is already August

Almost another year gone

I hear a faint message

“Slow down”

Did I hear correctly?

I mustn’t have

I am master of the calendar

I need to walk faster and faster

I lean more forward

To efficiently squeeze

All juice out of the day

I hear another message

This time more persistently

It tugs at my sleeve

“Sloowww dooowwnn”

I keep telling myself

I can’t slow down

I would come to a stand still

Eventually fall backwards

With nothing to hold me up

So I lean more and more forward

Until I, slave of the calendar

Fall flat on my face

And all juice is gone

OK, maybe

Just maybe

I could try to

Slow down…

© 2015 Anarette