I'll Run Late
On that day, sun met shadow
in a park; you ran late.
I twiddled my thumbs for a bit
listened to strangers' tongues
waddle and woddle
to the lapping of a fountain a mutt sipped.
And sipped, and sipped, until parched
Then marched back to its owner,
cheek whisker sodden.
'We're not so different that beast and I' -
the thought crossed my mind
as it plodded out of sight:
in the eye of the beholder beauty was blind.
Alone again with my thoughts;
the lapping and footstepping irked my brain.
Disdain, such as I've never felt,
when a group cheer eared dissent.
Sat away from friends and family
'neath my own little spot in the shade
and thought of our winter's approach;
of blue skies turning grey.
Used to always be that way,
when reels whim ground spoke
your tears form, ground dust from
my eyes kept close watch.
Clock hands took along merrily -
they've no time for calloused hearts;
For you, or for me-
'Oh life's many ironies!'
Another day, when sun will meet shadow
in a park; I’ll run late.
Giuseppe Gillespie – July 2022