P.S. Notes from my desk #14
I’m busy, you say. What a day!
Can’t chat. Can I call you back?
Tied up – I’ll get back.
Surely. Before I hit the sack.
Please; not right now. Can’t promise.
But I’ll be there somehow.
He waits. She waits.
And love tolerates.
As time evaporates.
A mother. A father. A lover or friend.
Little kids who believe,
Your every amend.
Over time they die. They suffocate.
Kith and kin. So squeezed in.
Trying to fit in.
Listen. Busy is an excuse. Much like treason.
You cheat yourself, thinking it’s with valid reason.
And I know. I see. This life is anything but easy.
You work hard. And you have all my empathy.
But please make time. Prioritize readily.
I’m not a reminder. Do it willingly.
And wait; Give me a sec. I’ll be gone in a jiffy.
Just need to say this, real quickly.
For believe you me - Really.
I’ve got things to do too
It’s not like I’m not busy.
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