Take a Break

I wake up to a blaring alarm,

It screeches and screams, begging to be shut down,

I fly in a panic as I see the time,

I’m late for work.

I rise from the gravestone before me,

Heavy heart, heavy hands, heavy all.

I lift myself back across the park,

The air freezing within my lungs.

I get up from my desk,

Walking to my car,

I’m late for my anniversary,

I’m late for the reservation.

I head to work, tie untied, shoes hardly on,

Open coffee cup as I attempt to sip,

I trip while getting into my car.

I sit in the park bench, observing the people,

A man with a brown stain upon his button-up, no tie in sight.

A woman in a red gown, rushing in black heels.

I scurry across the park, regret flashing in my soles,

Looking down to lift my dress, looking up to see brown.

I stop in my tracks, red and brown mixed before me,

I’m late for work I think, I’ve no time to stop now.

I sprint to the intersection, crossing it quick,

No time to glance behind me, no time to correct my mistakes.

I gasp as I wipe the warm liquid off my face,

Mascara running, dress stained, all the time I thought I gained, gone.

I yell back in anger, at that clueless office worker,

We’re all in a rush, we’ve all got things to do.

I sit perplexed at the scene exploding before me,

I arise from the bench to help the red-brown gown,

I give her a coat, give washing instructions, and offer a ride to her reservation.

I’m in the car with a man,

Who thankfully lent me a hand,

It seems it’ll all workout after all,

I may not even be too late.

I arrive at the office,

Looking frazzled and all,

They stare at the awkwardly,

Which makes sense I suppose,

My shirt’s all brown.