20141712.0752

There is a sense of hurry
Still, I must write
Even if it takes time I do not have

There is never enough time
For anything good
Always, we could linger longer
On loving
On a simple cup of coffee
And never are we given the chance to do so

Yes, we draw things out
But not as they ought to be
Not as we ought to be
There is always something else to do
And now I have to do mine.