I sat there on the iron bench
Amidst the large concrete pots
Overflowing with seasonal flowers
The evening sun shone
On my tired face; for a moment
I looked up from my phone
Pausing the search for a cab
And the frantic need to be home
All around me, I could see
Hunched shoulders, quick footfall
Towards the exit gate.
And what for?
To run away from the fatigue
Of a hectic day at work
Or to rush into another con call
With an unending to-do list
I sat there rooted in silence
Aware of the breathing
Of the weary and their worry
I wondered where all this leads;
Why we never stopped to see
The radiant blooms of Spring –
Wilting sooner than ever
In the heat of our distress
Blue Pen Strokes 