Long faces hold yesterday's gaze
Eyes turn inward
Minds travel backward
The morning hangs on,
The night won't let go.
There is a small child clinging
A pressing moment Weighs on the poet To finish her sentence As she currently knows it Urgency quietly calls Through paper-made walls In a form that makes sense Of the daily rises and falls If left unfinished, it never will be For the way life unfolds so quickly.