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.
Tomorrow.
Anyhow.
He
waits. She waits.
And
love tolerates.
Moments
hesitate…
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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