Saturday, August 30, 2014

On The 35th Floor

It is almost midnight.
The large summer moon
Throws misty light
Over my shoulders.
It is past midnight.
I’m supposed to be home
At this time, but no…
I am still at the office.

Shall I go?…On the 35th floor
Time is silently frozen.
The city is sleeping,
Taxis and trolleys are slow
Blinking their million lights.

Shall I go?… I locked the door
From inside.
Until the morning,
No telephones, no meetings.
35th floor
Is my insomniac island.
…and It is past midnight.

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