Between the crevices of daily tasks
My thoughts slip, far too easily, away
As silver fish that dart 'tween blades of grass
From sunlit streams to rivers deep in caves.
They gather there, to ask Aunt Jenny Wren
About the Suffragettes. And Pete? That book.
In patient tones, they carefully explain
To Shakespeare how a modern camera works.
And with my thoughts, the minutes slip away,
I do not finish all the things I ought,
And suddenly, I've reached the End of Day,
Returning home from being lost in thought.
It's quite a realization-- once again:
Surrounded by Imaginary Friends.